UC-NRLF 


b?7 


MILTON'S   COMUS,    LYCIDAS 

AND   OTHER    POEMS 


JWacmillan's  ^0ckct  i£nglisl)  Classics. 


A  Series  of  English  Texts,  edited  for  use  in 

Secondary  Schools,  with  Critical 

Introductions,  Notes,  etc. 


I6mo.  Levanteen.          25c.  each. 


MACAULAY'S  ESSAY  ON  ADDISON. 
MACAULAY'S  ESSAY  ON  MILTON. 
TENNYSON'S  THE  PRINCESS. 
ELIOT'S  SILAS  MARNER. 
COLERIDGE'S  THE  ANCIENT  MARINER. 
COOPER'S  THE  LAST  OF  THE  MOHICANS. 
BURKE'S  SPEECH  ON  CONCILIATION. 
POPE'S  HOMER'S  ILIAD. 
GOLDSMITH'S  THE  VICAR  OF  WAKEFIELD. 
SHAKESPEARE'S  MACBETH. 
ADDISON'S  SIR  ROGER  DE  COVERLEY. 
SHAKESPEARE'S  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 
DRYDEN'S  PALAMON  AND  ARCITE. 
BYRON'S  CHILDE  HAROLD'S  PILGRIMAGE. 
MILTON'S  COMUS,  LYCIDAS,  AND  OTHER  POEMS. 
LOWELL'S  VISION  OF  SIR  LAUNFAL. 
BROWNING'S  SHORTER  POEMS. 


OTHERS    TO    FOLLOW. 


MILTON'S 

COMUS,   LYCIDAS 

AND   OTHER  POEMS 

AND 

MATTHEW  ARNOLD'S  ADDRESS  ON  MILTON 

EDITED  WITH  INTRODUCTION  AND   NOTES 
BY 

ANDREW  J.  GEORGE,  M.A. 

DEPARTMENT  OF  ENGLISH,  HIGH  SCHOOL,  NEWTON,  MASS. 

EDITOR  OF  "  THE  SHORTER  POEMS  OF  MILTON,"  BYRON'S  "  CHILDE 

HAROLD,"  "  FROM  CHAUOER  TO  ARNOLD,"  ETC. 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

•LONDON:  MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LTD. 
1899 

All  rights  reserved 


COPYRIGHT,  1899, 
BY  THE  MACMILLAN    COMPANY 


GIFT 


J.  S.  Gushing  &  Co.  -  Berwick  &  Smith 
Norwood  Mass.  U.S.A. 


93* 


Jatfjer 


"  AFTER  I  had  for  my  first  years,  by  the  ceaseless  diligence  and 
care  of  my  father  (whom  God  recompense) ,  been  exercised  to  the 
tongues,  and  some  sciences,  as  my  age  would  suffer,  by  sundry 
masters  and  teachers,  both  at  home  and  at  the  schools,  it  was  found 
that  whether  aught  was  imposed  me  by  them  that  had  the  over- 
looking, or  betaken  to  of  mine  own  choice  in  English  or  other 
tongue,  prosing  or  versing,  but  chiefly  by  this  latter,  the  style,  by 
certain  vital  signs  it  had,  was  likely  to  live.  ...  I  began  thus  far 
to  assent  to  an  inward  prompting  which  now  grew  daily  upon  me, 
that  by  labour  and  intent  study  (which  I  take  to  be  my  portion  in 
this  life),  joined  with  the  strong  propensity  of  nature,  I  might 
perhaps  leaye  something  so  written  to  aftertimes  as  they  should  not 
willingly  let  it  die.  ...  I  applied  myself  to  fix  all  the  industry 
and  art  I  could  unite  to  the  adorning  of  my  native  tongue." 

—  THE  REASON  OF  CHURCH  GOVERNMENT. 


PREFATORY   NOTE 

I  HAVE  included  in  this  edition  several  poems  not 
in  the  college  requirements,  in  order  to  give  a  proper 
introduction  and  conclusion  to  the  work  and  to  reveal 
the  element  of  unity  and  growth.  The  notes  furnish 
biographical,  historical,  and  critical  material  sufficient 
to  enable  the  student  to  gain  an  insight  into  the  forces 
which  went  to  form  the  mind  and  art  of  the  great 
poet. 

Additional  interest  is  given  to  the  volume  from  the 
fact  that  it  contains  the  most  significant  of  the  many 
estimates  of  Milton's  greatness,  Mr.  Matthew  Arnold's 
address  at  the  unveiling  of  the  Milton  Memorial  Win- 
dow in  St.  Margaret's  Church,  Westminster. 

The  dates  which  precede  the  notes  to  each  poem 
refer,  if  there  are  two,  to  the  date  of  composition  of 


viii  PREFACE 

the  poem  and  its  first  publication  by  Milton;  and  if 
three,  the  second  refers  to  date  of  first  publication 
by  some  one  other  than  Milton.  The  letters  K.,  T., 
and  M.,  in  brackets,  refer  to  Keightley,  Todd,  and 
Masson  respectively. 

If  errors,  biographical,  historical,  or  textual,  are 
found  in  this  edition,  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  my 
attention  called  to^them. 

A.  J.  G. 

BBOOKLINE,  January,  1899. 


INTRODUCTION 


THE  period  intervening  between  the  destruction  of 
the  Spanish  galleons  in  1588  and  the  battle  of  La 
Hogue,  which  gave  England  her  dominion  of  the  seas 
in  1692,  witnessed  the  glorious  reign  of  Queen  Eliza- 
beth close  in  an  evening  of  extraordinary  splendor 
and  beauty,  — 

"  From  worlds  not  quickened  by  the  sun, 
A  portion  of  the  gift  is  won ; 
An  intermingling  of  Heaven's  pomp  is  spread 
On  ground  which  British  shepherds  tread," 

and  the  splendor  penetrated  into  the  dark  night  of 
the  Stuarts,  illuminating  a  solitary  peak  which  in  its 
turn  threw  the  fire  across  the  waste  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  and  in  its  light  arose  Wordsworth  and  Cole- 
ridge, those 

"Twin  morning  stars  of  the  new  century's  song." 

The  two  great  influences  at  work  in  England  at  the 
time  of  Milton's  birth  were  Hellenism,  which  came 

ix 


X  INTRODUCTION 

through  the  Renaissance,  and  revived  the  spontaneity 
of  consciousness  out  of  which  literature  and  art  were 
re-created ;  and  Hebraism,  which  came  through  the 
Reformation,  and  revived  the  strictness  of  conscience 
out  of  which  the  spirit  of  righteousness  was  quick- 
ened. The  former  gave  us  Elizabethan  England,  with 
Spenser,  Sidney,  and  Shakespeare ;  the  latter  Puritan 
England,  with  Butler,  Bunyan,  and  Milton.  If  we 
would  understand  the  forces  which  created  and 
nurtured  Milton,  the  man  and  poet,  we  must  turn  to 
the  history  of  the  closing  years  of  Elizabeth  and 
the  period  of  James  I.  and  Charles  I.  His  work 
previous  to  the  Commonwealth  is  distinguished  for 
its  Renaissance  spirit,  its  charm  of  childhood  and 
grace  of  youth,  while  revealing  at  the  same  time  a 
sublime  dignity  born  of  early  Puritanism  ;  but  after 
the  Commonwealth  it  became  militant  and  is  itself 
a  history  of  the  time,  yet  is  still  true  to  the  two  great 
articles  of  Milton's  creed,  —  Art  and  Faith.  Carlyle 
has  said  that  Milton  was  the  child  of  Shakespeare 
and  John  Kiiox.  He  may  be  called  the  last  of  the 
Elizabethans  and  the  first  of  the  moderns. 

Elizabethan  England  was  characterized  by  marvel- 
lous expansion  in  literary,  religious,  and  commercial 
interests  which  led  to  a  spirit  of  independence  in  the 
nation  as  a  whole.  She  was  "a  noble  and  puissant 
nation  rousing  herself  like  a  strong  man  after  sleep, 


INTRODUCTION  xi 

and  shaking  her  invincible  locks  as  an  eagle  mewing 
her  mighty  youth,  and  kindling  her  undazzled  eyes  at 
the  full  midday  beam."  London  was  the  centre  of  all 
these  interests,  and  Elizabeth  the  object  of  chivalrous 
loyalty.  When  the  midday  splendor  of  the  literary 
impulse  revealed  itself  in  the  Faerie  Queene  instinct 
with  the  vital  soul  of  the  age,  it  became  "  the  delight 
of  every  accomplished  gentleman,  the  model  of  every 
poet,  the  solace  of  every  soldier."  In  it  were  embod- 
ied those  principles  of  literary,  political,  and  religious 
activity  which  were  destined  to  shake  the  foundations 
of  the  Church  and  the  kingship  in  the  moral  earnest- 
ness which  was  developing  out  of  the  Renaissance 
and  the  Reformation ;  for  it  was  in  the  last  years 
of  Elizabeth's  reign,  years  of  splendor  at  home  and 
triumph  abroad,  that  England  passed  through  that 
mighty  change  due  to  her  becoming  a  nation  of  a 
single  book,  —  the  Bible.  The  Bible,  clothed  in  the 
language  of  Shakespeare,  and  enthroned  in  the  home 
which  Puritanism  had  created,  fostered  manners,  vir- 
tue, freedom,  power,  in  society,  politics,  religion,  and 
literature.  From  it  came  the  new  conception  of  the 
dignity  of  the  individual,  in  which  humanity  redis- 
covered its  patent  of  nobility  ;  it  revealed  the  divinity 
of  humanity  to  "  every  boy  that  driveth  the  plough," 
as  well  as  to  every  theologian  in  his  study. 

It  is  difficult  for  us  in  the  nineteenth  century  to 


xii  INTRODUCTION 

realize  how  complete  was  the  union  of  the  literary, 
political,  and  religious  spirit  under  the  influence  of 
the  teaching  of  the  Bible.  From  it  came  that  noble 
enthusiasm  for  one  God,  one  Law,  which  meant  no 
divine  right  for  kings  which  was  not  a  divine  right 
for  every  man.  Every  political  act  affected  both  liter- 
ature and  religion ;  every  literary  production  carried 
a  political  and  a  religious  message;  while  every  ob- 
servance of  religion  looked  to  the  creation  of  a  purer 
political  and  literary  activity.  The  crowds  which 
flocked  to  St.  Paul's  to  listen  to  the  reading  of  Bon- 
ner's  Bibles,  and  the  tenant,  the  farmer,  and  the  shop- 
keeper who  reverently  read  a  chapter  from  the  "  big 
book "  around  the  family  hearth,  were  being  trained 
in  literary  and  political  principles  by  which  of  old  the 
poet,  the  statesman,  and  the  prophet  —  heroes  all  — 
had  been  nurtured.  "  Legends  and  annals,  war  song 
and  psalm,  state  rolls  and  biographies,  the  mighty 
voices  of  prophets,  the  parables  of  evangelists,  stories 
of  mission  journeys,  of  perils  by  sea  and  among  the 
heathen,  philosophic  arguments,  apocalyptic  visions, 
—  all  were  flung  broadcast  over  minds  unoccupied,  for 
the  most  part,  by  any  rival  learning."  Such  was  the 
temper  of  the  Puritan  at  the  accession  of  James  I. 

The  natural  disposition  of  James,  and  the  training 
which  he  received  during  the  stormy  times  in  Scotland, 
make  it  easy  to  forecast  what  will  be  the  characteristics 


INTRODUCTION  xiii 

of  his  reign  at  a  time  when  Episcopacy  is  established 
in  England,  and  Presbyterianism  in  Scotland;  when 
the  two  antagonistic  parties,  Catholics  and  Puritans, 
each  ready  for  the  death  struggle,  are  watching  his 
every  movement;  and  the  civilized  world  interested 
spectators.  Where  Elizabeth  had  been  wise,  temper- 
ate, judicious,  serious,  he  was  foolish, ..radical,  rash,  and 
trifling.  Early  in  his  reign  his  temper  of  mind  was 
revealed  at  the  Hampton  Court  Conference  called  to 
consider  the  petition  of  Puritans  for  some  changes  in 
the  methods  of  the  Episcopacy  by  which  it  would  be 
more  in  harmony  with  the  democratic  idea  of  the 
Reformers.  On  that  occasion  he  said,  "A  Scottish 
Presbyter  as  well  fitteth  with  monarchy  as  God  and 
the  Devil/'  and  ordered  the  ten  who  presented  the 
petition  (signed  by  more  than  a  thousand  of  their 
ministers)  to  be  imprisoned.  His  next  step  was  to 
assert  the  doctrine  of  Divine  Eight  of  Kings  by  dic- 
tating to  the  House  of  Commons ;  the  result  of  which 
was  the  reaction  of  the  Commons  against  the  Catholics, 
the  exodus  of  Pilgrims  and  Puritans  to  the  New  World 
and  the  beginning  of  a  New  England. 

Notwithstanding  the  political  and  religious  ferment 
of  the  time,  the  principles  of  the  Renaissance  and  the 
Reformation,  which  created  Elizabethan  England,  still 
remained,  although  the  old  enthusiasm  for  England 
gradually  died  out  in  the  strife  of  parties,  and  imita- 


xiv  INTRODUCTION 

tion  took  the  place  of  creation.  No  great  work  ap- 
pears in  this  period  of  exhaustion  and  transition  which 
does  not  owe  its  inspiration  to  the  atmosphere  of  the 
previous  period.  It  is  significant  that  in  1623,  the 
year  of  the  publication  of  the  first  folio  of  Shake- 
speare, Waller  published  his  earliest  couplets  and 
ushered  in  the  $ra  of  the  Classicists  with  their  bril- 
liant conceits,  their  servility  to  foreign  models,  and 

their  learned  emptiness. 

"Ye were  dead 

To  things  ye  knew  not  of,  —  were  closely  wed 
To  musty  laws  lined  out  with  wretched  rule 
And  compass  vile  ;  so  that  ye  taught  a  school 
Of  dolts  to  smooth,  inlay,  and  clip,  and  fit, 
Till,  like  the  certain  wands  of  Jacob's  wit, 
They  tallied.     Easy  was  the  task : 
A  thousand  handicraftsmen  wore  the  mask 
Of  Poesy." 

Charles  was  heir  not  only  to  his  father's  failings, 
but  to  all  the  mischief  which  those  failings  had  pro- 
duced. The  breach  between  king  and  Parliament 
grew  wider  because  of  the  excesses  of  the  Duke  of 
Buckingham  and  the  marriage  of  Charles  with  a 
French  Catholic  princess.  Hampden  and  Sir  John 
Eliot  led  the  attack  upon  the  king;  Parliament  re- 
fused to  grant  money,  and  declared  that  in  matters  of 
religion  and  politics  it  must  be  consulted,  and  that  if 
the  king  refused  "  he  was  a  betrayer  of  the  liberty  of 


INTRODUCTION  XV 

England  and  an  enemy  to  the  same."  Charles  soon 
demonstrated  that  he  was  both  of  these  by  establishing 
the  Star  Chamber,  the  Court  of  High  Commission,  and 
by  attempting  to  force  the  prayer-book  upon  the  Scotch 
Covenanters.  We  must  not  forget  that  at  this  time, 
when  Charles  was  at  the  height  of  his  tyranny  and 
England  was  tossing  upon  the  wav|  of  civil  war, 
Milton  was  resting  from  his  first  flight  and  pluming 
himself  for  a  second,  "of  highest  hope  and  hardest 
attempting/7  in  the  quietude  of  classic  Italy ;  and  that 
on  learning  the  direction  affairs  were  taking,  his  love 
of  freedom  made  but  one  course  clear  for  him,  —  to 
return  and  enter  the  contest  for  liberty  "  when  the 
Church  of  God  was  at  the  foot  of  her  insulting 
enemies." 

After  Charles  found  that  he  could  not  scare  Parlia- 
ment into  submission,  he  threw  down  the  gauntlet  at 
the  foot  of  the  royal  standard  at  Nottingham,  and  war 
began.  Edgehill,  Marston  Moor,  and  Naseby  reveal 
the  course  of  that  struggle  which  ended  on  the  scaffold, 
and  the  Commonwealth  began  its  work  with  a  prohibi- 
tion against  the  proclaiming  of  any  person  king  of 
England  or  Ireland,  and  the  abolition  of  the  House  of 
Lords.  Government  was  vested  in  a  Council  of  State, 
and  Cromwell  was  head  of  the  army.  Milton  became 
Latin  Secretary;  and  here  begins  that  struggle  of 
twenty  years  for  the  defence  of  the  one  thing  he  holds 


xvi  INTRODUCTION 

dearest, —  liberty;  "religious  liberty  against  the  prel- 
ates, civil  liberty  against  the  crown,  the  libertv  of 
the  press  against  the  executive,  liberty  of  consource 
against  the  Presbyterians,  and  domestic  liberty  against 
the  tyranny  of  canon  law."  The  poet  becomes  phi- 
losopher and  statesman;  and  the  glory  of  English 
literature,  the  Champion  and  martyr  of  English  lib- 
erty. As  recreation  from  the  severe  strain  of  com- 
posing the  prose  controversial  pamphlet,  Milton  threw 
off  those  sonnets  so  charged  with  the  personal  note 
that  they  bring  us  into  the  passion  and  the  pathos 
that  constituted  his  deepest  life  during  these  memo- 
rable years. 

•^  The  splendid  prophecy  of  the  future  of  English 
literature  which  the  Milton  of  these  two  periods  pre- 
sents, is  that  of  intellectual  and  moral  earnestness 
revealed  in  the  highest  type  of  beauty  —  the  union  of 
l^weetness  and  light. 

We  are  wont  to  give  a  too  great  proportion  of  atten- 
tion to  the  Milton  of  Paradise  Lost,  and  the  result  is 
a  belief  that  Milton  lacked  the  finer  and  sweeter  quali- 
ties with  which  we  associate  Spenser  and  Shakespeare. 
The  historian  has  emphasized  certain  types  of  the 
Puritan  revealed  in  the  political  and  religious  activity 
of  the  time,  and  has  given  us  for  the  most  part  the 
formal,  rather  than  the  real,  Puritan.  Hence  he  has 
become  a  symbol  of  an  austere,  harsh,  and  canting 


INTRODUCTION  xvii 

who  finds  little  in  the  nature  of  existing 
polices  and  religion  which  is  to  his  mind.  And 
although  between  Clarendon  and  Macaulay  we  have 
a  great  variety  of  types,  they  severally  need  supple- 
menting by  a  careful  study  of  that  furnished  by  the 
Milton  of  the  Shorter  Poems.  Here  will  be  found 
nothing  of  religious  cant,  no  hatred  of  art  and  beauty 
even  when  they  are  misused,  no  frowning  upon  whole- 
some gayety,  but  a  generous  recognition  of  all  those 
elements  that  tend  to  make  life  stronger  in  hope,  more 
perfect  in  temper,  and  finer  in  spirit. 

The  love  of  nature  and  man,  and  the  pleasures 
afforded  by  a  life  of  ease  and  social  converse  revealed 
in  V Allegro ;  the  love  of  art  and  philosophy,  and  the 
delights  of  solitude  in  II  Penseroso;  the  tribute  paid 
to  noble  men  and  gentle  women  in  song,  action,  and 
all  the  magnificent  appointments  of  the  Masque,  with 
its  splendid  condemnation  of  the  fanaticism  of  Prynne ; 
the  tender  and  delicate  passion  in  the  poems  on  Diodati; 
and  the  passion  for  liberty,  the  prayers  for  toleration, 
and  the  religious  rapture  set  in  the  strong  framework 
of  the  political  sonnets,  present  us  a  truer  type  in 
heart  and  intellect  of  that  real  Puritanism  which  lay 
beneath  the  less  attractive  manifestations.  Here  is 
the  type  of  all  that  was  deepest  and  most  permanent 
in  English  life  between  the  luxuriousness  of  the  Eliza- 
bethan and  the  licentiousness  of  the  Restoration. 


xviii  INTRODUCTION 

The  highest  note  of  the  prose  of  these  periods  con- 
firms the  revelation  of  the  verse.  "  Though  all  the 
winds  of  doctrine  were  let  loose,"  says  he  in  the 
Areopagitica,  "  to  play  upon  the  earth,  so  Truth  be  in 
the  field,  we  do  injuriously  by  licensing  and  prohibit- 
ing to  misdoubt  her  strength.  Let  her  and  Falsehood 
grapple;  who  ever  knew  Truth  put  to  the  worse  in  a 
free  and  open  encounter?  .  .  .  How  many  other 
things  might  be  tolerated  in  peace,  and  left  to  con- 
science, had  we  but  charity,  and  were  it  not  the  chief 
stronghold  of  our  hypocrisy  to  be  ever  judging  one 
another?" 


APPRECIATIONS 


"  NOR  second  He,  that  rode  sublime 
Upon  the  seraph-wings  of  Ecstasy, 
The  secrets  of  th'  Abyss  to  spy. 

He  pass'd  the  flaming  bounds  of  Place  and  Time  : 
The  living  Throne,  the  sapphire-blaze, 
Where  Angels  tremble  while  they  gaze, 
He  saw  ;  but  blasted  with  excess  of  light, 
Closed  his  eyes  in  endless  night." 

GRAY. 

'  MILTON  !  thou  should 'st  be  living  at  this  hour  : 
England  hath  need  of  thee  :  she  is  a  fen 
Of  stagnant  waters  :  altar,  sword,  and  pen, 
Fireside,  the  heroic  wealth  of  hall  and  bower, 
Have  forfeited  their  ancient  English  dower 
Of  inward  happiness.     We  are  selfish  men  ; 
Oh  !  raise  us  up,  return  to  us  again  ; 
And  give  us  manners,  virtue,  freedom,  power. 
Thy  soul  was  like  a  Star,  and  dwelt  apart : 
Thou  hadst  a  voice  whose  sound  was  like  the  sea : 
Pure  as  the  naked  heavens,  majestic,  free, 
So  didst  thou  travel  on  life's  common  way, 
In  cheerful  godliness  ;  and  yet  thy  heart 
The  lowliest  duties  on  herself  did  lay." 

WORDSWORTH. 


XX  APPRECIATIONS 

"  0  MIGHTY-MOUTH' D  inventor  of  harmonies, 
O  skill' d  to  sing  of  Time  or  Eternity, 
God-gifted  organ-voice  of  England, 

Milton,  a  name  to  resound  for  ages ; 
Whose  Titan  angels,  Gabriel,  Abdiel, 
Starr'd  from  Jehovah's  gorgeous  armouries, 
Tower,  as  the  deep-domed  empyrean 

Rings  to  the  roar  of  an  angel  onset — 
Me  rather  all  that  bowery  loneliness, 
The  brooks  of  Eden  mazily  murmuring, 
And  bloom  profuse  and  cedar  arches 

Charm,  as  a  wanderer  out  in  ocean, 
Where  some  refulgent  sunset  of  India 
Streams  o'er  a  rich  ambrosial  ocean  isle, 
And  crimson-hued  the  stately  palm  woods 
Whisper  in  odorous  heights  of  even." 

TENNYSON. 

"  HE  left  the  upland  lawns  and  serene  air 

Wherefrom  his  soul  her  noble  nurture  drew, 
And  reared  his  helm  among  the  unquiet  crew 

Battling  beneath  ;  the  morning  radiance  rare 

Of  his  young  brow  amid  the  tumult  there 

Grew  dim  with  sulphurous  dust  and  sanguine  dew  ; 
Yet  through  all  soilure  they  who  marked  him  knew 

The  signs  of  his  life's  dayspring,  calm  and  fair. 

But  when  peace  came,  peace  fouler  far  than  war, 
And  mirth  more  dissonant  than  battle's  tone, 
He,  with  a  scornful  sigh  of  his  clear  soul, 

Back  to  his  mountain  clomb,  now  bleak  and  frore, 
And  with  the  awful  night  he  dwelt  alone, 
In  darkness,  listening  to  the  thunder's  roll." 

ERNEST  MYERS. 


APPRECIA  TIONS  xxi 

"THE  egoism  with  which  all  Milton's  poetry  is  im- 
pregnated is  the  egoism  of  a  glorious  nature.  If  we 
were  asked  who  in  the  eighteen  Christian  centuries 
stands  before  us  as  the  highest  approximation  to  what 
we  conceive  as  Christian  manhood,  in  which  are  rarely 
blended  purity  and  passion,  gracefulness  and  strength, 
sanctity  and  manifold  fitness  for  all  the  worldly  duties 
of  the  man  and  the  citizen,  we  should  scarcely  hesitate 
to  answer  —  John  Milton." 

REV.  F.  W.  ROBERTSON. 


"  THE  genius  and  office  of  Milton  were  to  ascend  by 
the  aids  of  his  learning  and  his  religion  by  an  equal 
perception,  that  is,  of  the  past  and  the  future  —  to  a 
higher  insight  and  more  lively  delineation  of  the 
heroic  life  of  man.  This  was  his  poem ;  whereof  all 
his  indignant  pamphlets  and  all  his  soaring  verses  are 
only  single  cantos  or  detached  stanzas.  It  was  plainly 
needful  that  his  poetry  should  be  a  version  of  his  own 
life,  in  order  to  give  weight  and  solemnity  to  his 
thoughts,  by  which  they  might  penetrate  and  possess 
the  imagination  and  the  will  of  mankind.  .  .  .  His 
own  conviction  it  is  which  gives  such  authority  to  his 
strain.  Its  reality  is  its  force.  If  out  of  the  heart 
it  came,  to  the  heart  it  must  go." 

EMERSON. 


XX11  APPRECIATIONS 

"  MILTON'S  sublimity  is  in  every  man's  mouth.  Is 
it  felt  that  his  poetry  breathes  a  sensibility  and  ten- 
derness hardly  surpassed  by  its  sublimity?  We  appre- 
hend that  the  grandeur  of  Milton's  mind  has  thrown 
some  shade  over  his  milder  beauties;  and  this  it  has 
done,  not  only  by  being  more  striking  and  imposing, 
but  by  the  tendency  of  vast  mental  energy  to  give  a 
certain  calmness  to  the  expression  of  tenderness  and 
deep  feeling.  A  great  mind  is  the  master  of  its  own 
enthusiasm,  and  does  not  often  break  out  into  those 
tumults  which  pass  with  many  for  the  signs  of  pro- 
found emotion.  Its  sensibility,  though  more  intense 
and  enduring,  is  more  self-possessed  and  less  perturbed 
than  that  of  other  men,  and  is  therefore  less  observed 
and  felt,  except  by  those  who  understand,  through 
their  own  consciousness,  the  workings  and  utterance 
of  genuine  feeling." 

CHANNING. 

"MILTON'S  more  elaborate  passages  have  the  multi- 
tudinous roll  of  thunder,  dying  away  to  gather  a  sullen 
force  again  from  its  own  reverberations,  but  he  knew 
that  the  attention  is  recalled  and  arrested  by  those 
claps  that  stop  short  without  echo  and  leave  us  listen- 
ing. There  are  no  such  vistas  and  avenues  of  verse  as 
his.  In  reading  him  one  has  a  feeling  of  spaciousness 
such  as  no  other  poet  gives.  Milton's  respect  for  him- 


APPRECIATIONS  xxiii 

self  and  for  his  own  mind  and  its  movement  rises 
well-nigh  to  veneration.  He  prepares  the  way  for  his 
thought  and  spreads  on  the  ground  before  the  sacred 
feet  of  his  verse  tapestries  inwoven  with  figures  of 
mythology  and  romance.  There  is  no  such  unfailing 
dignity  as  his." 

LOWELL. 


MILTON l 

THE  most  eloquent  voice  of  oar  century  uttered, 
shortly  before  leaving  the  world,  a  warning  cry 
'against  the  Anglo-Saxon  contagion.'  The  tenden- 
cies and  aims,  the  view  of  life  and  the  social  economy 
of  the  ever-multiplying  and  spreading  Anglo-Saxon 
race,  would  be  found  congenial,  this  prophet  feared, 
by  all  the  prose,  all  the  vulgarity  amongst  mankind, 
and  would  invade  and  overpower  all  nations.  The  true 
ideal  would  be  lost,  a  general  sterility  of  mind  and 
heart  would  set  in. 

The  prophet  had  in  view,  no  doubt,  in  the  warning 
thus  given,  us  and  our  colonies,  but  the  United  States 
still  more.  There  the  Anglo-Saxon  race  is  already  most 
numerous,  there  it  increases  fastest;  there  material 
interests  are  most  absorbing  and  pursued  with  most 
energy;  there  the  ideal,  the  saving  ideal,  of  a  high  and 
rare  excellence,  seems  perhaps  to  suffer  most  danger 
of  being  obscured  and  lost.  Whatever  one  may  think 
of  the  general  danger  to  the  world  from  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  contagion,  it  appears  to  me  difficult  to  deny 
that  the  growing  greatness  and  influence  of  the  United 

1  An  address  delivered  in  St.  Margaret's  Church,  Westminster, 
on  the  13th  of  February,  1888,  at  the  unveiling  of  a  memorial  win- 
dow presented  by  Mr.  George  W.  Childs  of  Philadelphia, 
xxiv 


MILTON  XXV 

States  does  bring  with,  it  some  danger  to  the  ideal  of 
a  high  and  rare  excellence.  The  average  man  is  too 
much  a  religion  there;  his  performance  is  unduly 
magnified,  his  shortcomings  are  not  duly  seen  and 
admitted.  A  lady  in  the  State  of  Ohio  sent  to  me 
only  the  other  day  a  volume  on  American  authors;  the 
praise  given  throughout  was  of  such  high  pitch  that  in 
thanking  her  I  could  not  forbear  saying  that  for  only 
one  or  two  of  the  authors  named  was  such  a  strain  of 
praise  admissible,  and  that  we  lost  all  real  standard 
of  excellence  by  praising  so  uniformly  and  immoder- 
ately. She  answered  me  with  charming  good  temper, 
that  very  likely  I  was  quite  right,  but  it  was  pleasant 
to  her  to  think  that  excellence  was  common  and  abun- 
dant. But  excellence  is  not  common  and  abundant; 
on  the  contrary,  as  the  Greek  poet  long  ago  said,  ex- 
cellence dwells  among  rocks  hardly  accessible,  and  a 
man  must  almost  wear  his  heart  out  before  he  can 
reach  her.  Whoever  talks  of  excellence  as  common 
and  abundant,  is  on  the  way  to  lose  all  right  standard 
of  excellence.  And  when  the  right  standard  of  excel- 
lence is  lost,  it  is  not  likely  that  much  which  is  ex- 
cellent will  be  produced. 

To  habituate  ourselves,  therefore,  to  approve,  as 
the  Bible  says,  things  that  are  really  excellent,  is  of 
the  highest  importance.  And  some  apprehension  may 
justly  be  caused  by  a  tendency  in  Americans  to  take, 


XX  Vi  MILTON 

or  at  any  rate,  attempt  to  take,  profess  to  take,  the 
average  man  and  his  performances  too  seriously,  to 
overrate  and  overpraise  what  is  not  really  superior. 

But  we  have  met  here  to-day  to  witness  the  unveil- 
ing of  a  gift  in  Milton's  honour,  and  a  gift  bestowed  by 
an  American,  Mr.  Childs  of  Philadelphia;  whose  cor- 
dial hospitality  so  many  Englishmen,  I  myself  among 
the  number,  have  experienced  in  America.  It  was 
only  last  autumn  that  Stratford-upon-Avon  celebrated 
the  reception  of  a  gift  from  the  same  generous  donor 
in  honour  of  Shakespeare.  Shakespeare  and  Milton 
—  he  who  wishes  to  keep  his  standard  of  excellence 
high,  cannot  choose  two  better  objects  of  regard  jind 
honour.  And  it  is  an  American  who  has  chosen  them, 
and  whose  beautiful  gift  in  honour  of  one  of  them, 
Milton,  with  Mr.  Whittier's  simple  and  true  lines  in- 
scribed upon  it,  is  unveiled  to-day.  Perhaps  this 
gift  in  honour  of  Milton,  of  which  I  am  asked  to  speak, 
is,  even  more  than  the  gift  in  honour  of  Shakespeare, 
one  to  suggest  edifying  reflections  to  us. 

Like  Mr.  Whittier,  I  treat  the  gift  of  Mr.  Childs 
as  a  gift  in  honour  of  Milton,  although  the  window 
given  is  in  memory  of  his  second  wife,  Catherine 
Woodcock,  the  '  late  espoused  saint '  of  the  famous 
sonnet,  who  died  in  childbed  at  the  end  of  the  first 
year  of  her  marriage  with  Milton,  and  who  lies  buried 
here  with  her  infant.  Milton  is  buried  in  Cripple- 


MILTON  xxvii 

gate,  but  he  lived  for  a  good  while  in  this  parish  of 
St.  Margaret's,  Westminster,  and  here  he  composed 
part  of  Paradise  Lost,  and  the  whole  of  Paradise 
Regained  and  Samson  Agonistes.  When  death  de- 
prived him  of  the  Catherine  whom  the  new  window 
commemorates,  Milton  had  still  some  eighteen  years 
to  live,  and  Cromwell,  his  ' chief  of  men/  was  yet 
ruling  England.  But  the  Restoration,  with  its  'Sons 
of  Belial/  was  not  far  off;  and  in  the  meantime  Mil- 
ton's heavy  affliction  had  laid  fast  hold  upon  him;  his 
eyesight  had  failed  totally,  he  was  blind.  In  what 
remained  to  him  of  life  he  had  the  consolation  of  pro- 
ducing the  Paradise  Lost  and  the  Samson  Agonistes, 
and  such  a  consolation  we  may  indeed  count  as  no 
slight  one.  But  the  daily  life  of  happiness  in  common 
things  and  in  domestic  affections  —  a  life  of  which,  to 
Milton,  as  to  Dante,  too  small  a  share  was  given  — 
he  seemed  to  have  known  most,  if  not  only,  in  his 
one  married  year  with  the  wife  who  is  here  buried. 
Her  form  '  vested  all  in  white, '  as  in  his  sonnet  he 
relates  that  after  her  death  she  appeared  to  him,  her 
face  veiled,  but  with  '  love,  sweetness,  and  goodness  J 
shining  in  her  person,  —  this  fair  and  gentle  daughter 
of  the  rigid  sectarist  of  Hackney,  this  lovable  com- 
panion with  whom  Milton  had  rest  and  happiness  one 
year,  is  a  part  of  Milton  indeed,  and  in  calling  up  her 
memory,  we  call  up  his. 


xxviii  MILTON 

And  in  calling  up  Milton's  memory  we  call  up,  let 
me  say,  a  memory  upon  which,  in  prospect  of  the 
Anglo-Saxon  contagion  and  of  its  dangers  supposed  and 
real,  it  may  be  well  to  lay  stress  even  more  than  upon 
Shakespeare's.  If  to  our  English  race  an  inadequate 
sense  of  perfection  of  work  is  a  real  danger,  if  the 
discipline  of  respect  for  a  high  and  flawless  excellence 
is  peculiarly  needed  by  us,  Milton  is  of  all  our  gifted 
men  the  best  lesson,  the  most  salutary  influence.  In 
the  sure  and  flawless  perfection  of  his  rhythm  and 
diction  he  is  as  admirable  as  Virgil  or  Dante,  and 
in  this  respect  he  is  unique  among  us.  No  one  else 
in  English  literature  and  art  possesses  the  like  distinc- 
tion. 

Thomson,  Cowper,  Wordsworth,  all  of  them  good 
poets  who  have  studied  Milton,  followed  Milton, 
adopted  his  form,  fail  in  their  diction  and  rhythm 
if  \ve  try  them  by  that  high  standard  of  excellence 
maintained  by  Milton  constantly.  From  style  really 
high  and  pure  Milton  never  departs ;  their  departures 
from  it  are  frequent. 

Shakespeare  is  divinely  strong,  rich,  and  attractive. 
But  sureness  of  perfect  style  Shakespeare  himself 
does  not  possess.  I  have  heard  a  politician  express 
wonder  at  the  treasures  of  political  wisdom  in  a  cer- 
tain celebrated  scene  of  Troilus  and  Cressida;  for  my 
part  I  am  at  least  equally  moved  to  wonder  at  the 


MILTON  xxix 

fantastic  and  false  diction  in  which  Shakespeare  has 
in  that  scene  clothed  them.  Milton,  from  one  end  of 
Paradise  Lost  to  the  other,  is  in  his  diction  and  rhythm 
constantly  a  great  artist  in  the  great  style.  Whatever 
may  be  said  as  to  the  subject  of  his  poem,  as  to  the 
conditions  under  which  he  received  his  subject  and 
treated  it,  that  praise,  at  any  rate,  is  assured  him. 

For  the  rest,  justice  is  not  at  present  done,  in  my 
opinion,  to  Milton's  management  of  the  inevitable 
matter  of  a  Puritan  epic,  a  matter  full  of  difficulties 
for  a  poet.  Justice  is  not  done  to  the  architectonics, ! 
as  Goethe  would  have  called  them,  of  Paradise  Lost; 
in  these,  too,  the  power  of  Milton's  art  is  remarkable. 
But  this  may  be  a  proposition  which  requires  discus- 
sion and  development  for  establishing  it,  and  they  are 
impossible  on  an  occasion  like  the  present. 

That  Milton,  of  all  our  English  race,  is  by  his  dic- 
tion and  rhythm  the  one  artist  of  the  highest  rank  in 
the  great  style  whom  we  have;  this  I  take  as  requir- 
ing no  discussion,  this  I  take  as  certain. 

The  mighty  power  of  poetry  and  art  is  generally 
admitted.  But  where  the  soul  of  this  power,  of  this 
power  at  its  best,  chiefly  resides,  very  many  of  us  fail 
to  see.  It  resides  chiefly  in  the  refining  and  elevation 
wrought  in  us  by  the  high  and  rare  excellence  of  the 
great  style.  We  may  feel  the  effect  without  being 
able  to  give  ourselves  clear  account  of  its  cause,  but 


xxx  MILTON 

the  thing  is  so.  Now,  no  race  needs  the  influences 
mentioned,  the  influences  of  refining  and  elevation, 
more  than  ours;  and  in  poetry  and  art  our  grand 
source  for  them  is  Milton. 

!  To  what  does  he  owe  this  supreme  distinction?  To 
nature  first  and  foremost,  to  that  bent  of  nature  for 
inequality  which  to  the  worshippers  of  the  average 
man  is  so  unacceptable;  to  a  gift,  a  divine  favour. 
'The  older  one  grows/  says  Goethe,  'the  more  one 
prizes  natural  gifts,  because  by  no  possibility  can 
they  be  procured  and  stuck  on.?  Nature  formed 
Milton  to  be  a  great  poet.  But  what  other  poet  has 
shown  so  sincere  a  sense  of  the  grandeur  of  his  voca- 
tion, and  a  moral  effort  so  constant  and  sublime  to 
make  and  keep  himself  worthy  of  it?  The  Milton  of 
religious  and  political  controversy,  and  perhaps  of 
domestic  life  also,  is  not  seldom  disfigured  by  want 
of  amenity,  by  acerbity.  The  Milton  of  poetry,  on 
the  other  hand,  is  one  of  those  great  men  '  who  are 
modest ?  — to  quote  a  fine  remark  of  Leopardi,  —  that 
gifted  and  stricken  young  Italian,  who  in  his  sense 
for  poetic  style  is  worthy  to  be  named  with  Dante  and 
Milton  —  'who  are  modest  because  they  continually 
compare  themselves,  not  with  other  men,  but  with 
that  idea  of  the  perfect  which  they  have  before  their 
mind.'  The  Milton  of  poetry  is  the  man,  in  his  own 
magnificent  phrase,  of  '  devout  prayer  to  that  Eternal 


MILTON  xxxi 

Spirit  that  can  enrich  with  all  utterance  and  knowl- 
edge, and  sends  out  his  Seraphim  with  the  hallowed 
fire  of  his  altar,  to  touch  and  purify  the  lips  of  whom 
he  pleases.'  And  finally,  the  Milton  of  poetry  is,  in 
his  own  words  again,  the  man '  of  industrious  and  select 
reading.'  Continually  he  lived  in  companionship 
with  high  and  rare  excellence,  with  the  great  Hebrew 
poets  and  prophets,  with  the  great  poets  of  Greece 
and  Eome.  The  Hebrew  compositions  were  not  in 
verse,  and  can  be  not  inadequately  represented  by  the 
grand  measured  prose  of  our  English  Bible.  The 
verse  of  the  poets  of  Greece  and  Eome  no  translation 
can  adequately  reproduce.  Prose  cannot  have  the 
power  of  Verse;  verse-translation  may  give  whatever 
of  charm  is  in  the  soul  and  talent  of  the  translator 
himself,  but  never  the  specific  charm  of  the  verse  and 
poet  translated.  In  our  race  there  are  thousands  of 
readers,  presently  there  will  be  millions,  who  know 
not  a  word  of  Greek  and  Latin,  and  will  never  learn 
those  languages .  If  this  host  of  readers  are  ever  to 
gain  any  sense  of  the  power  and  charm  of  the  great 
poets  of  antiquity,  their  way  to  gain  it  is  not  through 
translations  of  the  ancients,  but  through  the  original 
poetry  of  Milton,  who  has  the  like  power  and  charm, 
because  he  has  the  like  great  style. 

Through  Milton  they  may  gain  it,  for,  in  conclu- 
sion, Milton  is  English;  this  master  in  the  great  style 


xxxii  MILTON 

of  the  ancients  is  English.  Virgil,  whom  Milton  loved 
and  honoured,  has  at  the  end  of  the  ^Eneid  a  noble 
passage,  where  Juno,  seeing  the  defeat  of  Turnus  and 
the  Italians  imminent,  the  victory  of  the  Trojan  in- 
vaders assured,  entreats  Jupiter  that  Italy  may  never- 
theless survive  and  be  herself  still,  may  retain  her 
own  mind,  manners,  and  language,  and  not  adopt 
those  of  the  conqueror. 

4  Sit  Latium,  sint  Albani  per  secula  reges  ! ' 

Jupiter  grants  the  prayer:  he  promises  perpetuity  and 
the  future  to  Italy  —  Italy  Behtforced  &y  whatever  vir- 
tue the  Trojan  race  has,  but  iWtyj  not  Troy!'  This  we 
may  take  as  a  sort  of  parajple  suiting  ourselves.  All 
the  Anglo-Saxon  contagion,  all  the  flood  of  Anglo- 
Saxon  commonness,  beats  vainly  against  the  great 
style  but  cannot  shake  it,  and  has  to  accept  its  tri- 
umph. But  it  triumphs  in  Milton,  in  one  of  our  own 
race,  tongue,  faith,  and  morals.  Milton  has  made  the 
great  style  no  longer  an  exotic  here;  he  has  made  it 
an  inmate  amongst  us,  a  leaven,  and  a  power.  Never- 
theless he,  and  his  hearers  on  both  sides  of  the 
Atlantic,  are  English,  and  will  remain  English  — 
4  Sermonem  Ausonii  patrium  moresque  tenebunt. ' 

The  English  race  overspreads  the  world,  and  at  the 
same  time  the  ideal  of  an  excellence  the  most  high 
and  the  most  rare  abides  a  possession  with  it  forever. 


(Moseley's  Preface  to  the  first  edition  of  Milton9  s  Poems,  1645.) 

"THE   STATIONER   TO   THE   READER. 

"!T  is  not  any  private  respect  of  gain,  Gentle 
Reader  (for  the  slightest  Pamphlet  is  nowadays  more 
vendible  than  the  works  of  learnedest  men),  but  it  is 
the  love  I  have  to  our  own  Language,  that  hath  made 
me  delight  to  collect  and  set  forth  such  Pieces,  both 
in  Prose  and  Verse,  as  may  renew  the  wonted  honor 
and  esteem  of  our  English  tongue;  and  it's  the  worth 
of  these  both  English  and  Latin  Poems,  not  the 
flourish  of  any  prefixed  encomions,  that  can  invite 
thee  to  buy  them  — •  though  these  are  not  without  the 
highest  commendations  and  applause  of  the  learnedest 
Academicks,  both  domestic  and  foreign,  and,  amongst 
those  of  our  own  country,  the  unparalleled  attestation 
of  that  renowned  Provost  of  Eton,  SIR  HENRY 
WOOTTON.  I  know  not  thy  palate,  how  it  relishes 
such  dainties,  nor  how  harmonious  thy  soul  is :  per- 
haps more  trivial  Airs  may  please  thee  better.  But, 
howsoever  thy  opinion  is  spent  upon  these,  that  en- 
couragement I  have  already  received  from  the  most 
ingenious  men,  in  their  clear  and  courteous  entertain- 


xxxiv        THE    STATIONER    TO    THE    READER 

ment  of  Mr.  WALLER'S  late  choice  Pieces,  hath  once 
more  made  me  adventure  into  the  world,  presenting 
it  with  these  ever-green  and  not  to  be  blasted  laurels. 
The  Author's  more  peculiar  excellency  in  these  studies 
was  too  well  known  to  conceal  his  Papers,  or  to  keep 
me  from  attempting  to  solicit  them  from  him.  Let 
the  event  guide  itself  which  way  it  will,  I  shall  de- 
serve of  the  age  by  bringing  into  the  light  as  true  a 
birth  as  the  Muses  have  brought  forth  since  our  famous 
SPENSER,  wrote ;  whose  Poems  in  these  English  ones 
are  as  rarely  imitated  as  sweetly  excelled.  Reader, 
if  thou  art  eagle-eyed  to  censure  their  worth,  I  am  not 
fearful  to  expose  them  to  thy  exactest  perusal. 
"  Thine  to  command, 

"HUMPH.    MOSELEY." 


IMPORTANT  EDITIONS  OF  MILTON'S  WOKKS 

Works  in  Verse  and  Prose,  with  a  life  by  J.  Mitford.     8  vols. 

London,  1851.     8vo. 
Poems,  English  and  Latin.     The  first  edition  and  the  first 

work  bearing  Milton's  name.     London,  1645.     8vo. 
Poetical  Works,  containing  Paradise  Lost,  Paradise  Regained, 

and  Samson  Agonistes,  and  his  poems  on  several  occasions, 

with  notes  on  Paradise  Lost,  by  P.  H.     5  parts.     London, 

1695,  folio. 
Poetical  Works,  with  notes  by  T.  Newton.    3  vols.     London,  i 

1749-52.     4to. 
Poetical  Works,  illustrated,  with  life  by  H.  J.  Todd.     6  vols. 

London,  1801.     8vo.     Second  Edition,  with  additions  and 

an   index.     7  vols.     London,  1809.     8vo.     Third  Edition, 

with  other  illustrations.     6  vols.     London,  1826.     8vo. 
Poetical  Works,  with  notes,  and  Newton's  life  of  Milton,  by 

E.  Hawkins.     4  vols.     Oxford,  1824.     8vo. 
Poetical  Works,  with  Cowper's  translation  of   the  Latin  and 

Italian  Poems,  and  life  of  Milton  by  his  nephew,  E.  Philips,  *" 

etc.     3  vols.     London,  1826.     8vo. 
Poetical  Works,  with  life  and  notes  by  Rev.  H.  Stebbing.     To 

this  is  prefixed  Dr.  Channing's  essay  on  the  poetical  genius 

of  Milton.     London,  1839.     12mo. 
Poems,  with  notes  by  T.  Keightley.     2  vols.    London,  1859. 

8vo. 


xxxvi      IMPORTANT  EDITIONS  OF  MILTON'S    WORKS 

Poetical  Works,  with  memoir  and  critical  remarks  by  J.  Mont- 
gomery.    One  hundred   and   twenty  engravings.     Bohris 

Illustrated  Library.     2  vols.     London,  1861.     8vo. 
The  Globe  Edition,  with  introduction,  by  D.  Masson.     London, 

1877.     8vo. 
Poetical  Works,  with  memoir,  illustration,  notes,  and  an  Essay 

on  Milton's  Versification,  by  D.  Masson.     3  vols.     London, 

1882.     8vo. 
Poetical   Works,  with  introduction  and  notes,  by  D.  Masson. 

London. 
The  Minor  Poems  of  John  Milton,  with  notes,  by  W.  J.  Rolfe. 

New  York,  1887. 
The  Shorter  Poems  of  John  Milton,  with  the  two  Latin  Elegies 

and  Italian  Sonnet  to  Diodati  and  Epitaphium  Damonis. 

London  and  New  York,  1889.     Edited  by  A.  J.  George. 
Sonnets  of  John  Milton,  edited  by  Mark  Pattison.     London, 

1883. 
Complete  Prose  Works,  both  English  and  Latin,  by  J.  Toland. 

3  vols.     Amsterdam  (London),  1698,  folio. 
Complete  Prose  Works,  by  T.  Birch.     2  vols.     London,  1738. 
Prose  Works,  by  R.  Fletcher.     London,  1833.     8vo. 
Prose  Works,  with  introduction,  by  R.  W.  Griswold.     2  vols. 

New  York,  1847.     8vo. 
Prose  Works,  preface  and  notes,  by  J.  A.  St.  John.     5  vols. 

Bohii's  Standard  Library,  London,  1848-53.     8vo. 
For  Complete  Bibliography,  see  John  Milton  by  R.  Garnett 

(Great  Writers). 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

PREFATORY  NOTE  .......  vii 

INTRODUCTION ix 

APPRECIATIONS xix 

MILTON,  BY  MATTHEW  ARNOLD    ....  xxiv 
MOSELEY'S  PREFACE  TO   THE  FIRST  EDITION   OF 

MILTON'S  POEMS,  1645        .....  xxxiii 

IMPORTANT  EDITIONS  OF  MILTON'S  WORKS  .         .  xxxv 

1630    At  a  Solemn  Music 1 

On  Shakespeare      .......  2 

1633  L' Allegro 3 

II  Penseroso 9 

1634  Arcades 17 

Comus  : 

Lawes'  Dedication  to  the  Edition  of  1637        .  22 
Sir  Henry  Wotton's  Commendatory  Letter, 

1638 23 

The  Persons 26 

The  Text  of  Comus 27 

1637    Lycidas 71 

xxxvii 


xxxviii  CONTENTS 


1655    On  his  Blindness    .                  .....  70 

1058    On  his  Deceased  Wife    ......  80 

Chronological          .         .         .                  .         .         •  81 

The  Cambridge  Mss  .......  84 

Notes      .........  87 

References     ........  177 


MILTON'S   COMUS,   LYCIDAS,   AND 
OTHER  POEMS 

AT   A  SOLEMN    MUSIC 

BLEST  pair  of  Sirens,  pledges  of  Heaven's  joy, 

Sphere-born  harmonious  sisters,  Voice  and  Verse, 

Wed  your  divine  sounds,  and  mixed  power  employ, 

Dead  things  with  inbreathed  sense  able  to  pierce; 

And  to  our  high-raised  phantasy  present  5 

That  undisturbed  song  of  pure  concent,0 

Aye  sung  before  the  sapphire-coloured  throne0 

To  Him  that  sits  thereon, 

With  saintly  shout  and  solemn  jubilee; 

Where  the  bright  Seraphim  in  burning0  row  10 

Their  loud  uplifted  angel-trumpets  blow,0 

And  the  Cherubic  host  in  thousand  quires0 

Touch  their  immortal  harps  of  golden  wires, 

With  those  just  Spirits  that  wear  victorious0  palms, 

Hymns  devout  and  holy0  psalms  15 

B  1 


2  MILTON'S    COMUS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

Singing  everlastingly :° 

That  we  on  Earth,  with  undiscording  voice, 

May  rightly  answer  that  melodious  noise;0 

As  once  we  did,0  till  disproportioned  sin 

Jarred  against  nature's  chime,  and  with  harsh  din   20 

Broke  the  fair  music  that  all  creatures  made 

To  their  great  Lord,  whose  love  their  motion  swayed 

In  perfect  diapason,  whilst  they  stood 

In  first  obedience,  and  their  state  of  good. 

0,  may  we  soon  again  renew  that  song,  25 

And  keep  in  tune  with  Heaven,  till  God  ere  long 

To  his  celestial  consort0  us  unite, 

To  live  with  Him,  and  sing  in  endless  morn  of  light  1° 

ON   SHAKESPEAEE   1630 

WHAT  needs  my  Shakespeare  for  his  honoured  bones 

The  labour  of  an  age  in  piled  stones 

Or  that  his  hallowed  reliques  should  be  hid 

Under  a  star-ypointing0  pyramid? 

Dear  son  of  memory,  great  heir  of  fame,  5 

What  need'st  thou  such  weak  witness  of  thy  name? 

Thou  in  our  wonder  and  astonishment 

Hast  built  thyself  a  livelong0  monument. 

For  whilst,  to  the  shame  of  slow-endeavouring  art,0 


L' ALLEGRO  3 

Thy  easy  numbers  flow,  and  that  each  heart  10 

Hath  from  the  leaves  of  thy  unvalued0  book 
Those  Delphic0  lines  with  deep  impression  took, 
Then  thou,  our  fancy  of  itself  bereaving, 
Dost  make  us  marble0  with  too  much  conceiving, 
And  so  sepulchred  in  such  pomp  dost  lie  15 

That  kings  for  such  a  tomb  would  wish  to  die. 

L'ALLEGRO 

HENCE,  loathed  Melancholy, 

Of  Cerberus  and  blackest  Midnight  born0 
In  Stygian0  cave  forlorn 

'Mongst  horrid  shapes,  and  shrieks,  and  sights  un- 
holy! 
Find  out  some  uncouth  cell,  5 

Where  brooding  Darkness  spreads  his  jealous  wings,0 
And  the  night-raven  sings;0 

There,  under  ebon  shades  arid  low-browed  rocks, 
As  ragged  as  thy  locks,0 

In  dark  Cimmerian0  desert  ever  dwell.  10 

But  come,  thou  Goddess  fair  and  free, 
In  heaven  yclept0  Euphrosyne,0 
And  by  men  heart-easing  Mirth; 
Whom  lovely  Venus,  at  a  birth,0 


MILTON'S    COMUS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

With  two  sister  Graces  more, 

To  ivy-crowned  Bacchus  bore : 

Or  whether  (as  some  sager  sing) 

The  frolic  wind  that  breathes  the  spring, 

Zephyr,  with  Aurora  playing, 

As  he  met  her  once  a-Maying, 

There,  on  beds  of  violets  blue, 

And  fresh-blown  roses  washed  in  dew,0 

Filled  her  with  thee,  a  daughter  fair, 

So  buxom,  blithe,  and  debonair.0 

Haste  thee,  Nymph,0  and  bring  with  thee 

Jest,  and  youthful  Jollity, 

Quips  and  Cranks0  and  wanton  Wiles, 

Nods  and  Becks  and  wreathed  Smiles, 

Such  as  hang  on  Hebe's  cheek, 

And  love  to  live  in  dimple  sleek; 

Sport  that  wrinkled  Care  derides, 

And  Laughter  holding  both  his  sides.0 

Come,  and  trip  it,0  as  you  go, 

On  the  light  fantastic  toe ; 

And  in  thy  right  hand  lead  with  thee 

The  mountain-nymph,  sweet  Liberty; 

And,  if  I.  give  thee  honour  due, 

Mirth,  admit  me  of  thy  crew, 

To  live  with  her,  and  live  with  thee, 


Z,' ALLEGRO  5 

In  unreproved0  pleasure  free;  40 

To  hear  the  lark0  begin  his  flight, 

And,  singing,  startle  the  dull  night, 

From  his  watch-tower  in  the  skies, 

Till  the  dappled  dawn0  doth  rise ; 

Then  to  come,  in  spite  of  sorrow,  45 

And  at  my  window  bid  good-morrow, 

Through  the  sweet-briar  or  the  vine, 

Or  the  twisted  eglantine ; 

While  the  cock,  with  lively  din, 

Scatters  the  rear  of  darkness  thin;  50 

And  to  the  stack,  or  the  barn-door, 

Stoutly  struts  his  dames  before: 

Oft  listening  how  the  hounds  and  horn 

Cheerly  rouse  the  slumbering  morn, 

From  the  side  of  some  hoar  hill,  55 

Through  the  high  wood  echoing  shrill : 

Sometime  walking,  not  unseen, 

By  hedgerow  elms,  on  hillocks  green, 

Eight  against  the  eastern  gate0 

Where  the  great  Sun  begins  his  state,  60 

Robed  in  flames  and  amber  light, 

The  clouds  in  thousand  liveries  dight;0 

While  the  ploughman,  near  at  hand, 

Whistles  o'er  the  furrowed  land, 


MILTON'S  COMUS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

And  the  milkmaid  singeth  blithe,  65 

And  the  mower  whets  his  scythe, 

And  every  shepherd  tells  his  tale0 

Under  the  hawthorn  in  the  dale. 

Straight0  mine  eye  hath  caught  new  pleasures, 

Whilst  the  landskip0  round  it  measures :  70 

Russet  lawns,  and  fallows  grey, 

Where  the  nibbling  flocks  do  stray; 

Mountains  on  whose  barren  breast 

The  labouring  clouds  do  often  rest; 

Meadows  trim,  with  daisies  pied;0  75 

Shallow  brooks,  and  rivers  wide; 

Towers  and  battlements0  it  sees 

Bosomed  high  in  tufted  trees, 

Where  perhaps  some  beauty  lies, 

The  cynosure  of  neighbouring  eyes.  80 

Hard  by  a  cottage  chimney  smokes 

From  betwixt  two  aged  oaks, 

Where  Corydon0  and  Thyrsis0  met 

Are  at  their  savoury  dinner  set 

Of  herbs  and  other  country  messes,  85 

Which  the  neat-handed  Phillis0  dresses; 

And  then  in  haste  her  bower  she  leaves, 

With  Thestylis0  to  bind  the  sheaves ; 

Or,  if  the  earlier  season  lead, 


L>  ALLEGRO  1 

To  the  tanned  haycock  in  the  mead.  90 

Sometimes,  with  secure0  delight, 

The  upland  hamlets  will  invite, 

When  the  merry  bells  ring  round, 

And  jocund  rebecks0  sound 

To  many  a  youth  and  many  a  maid  95 

Dancing  in  the  chequered  shade,0 

And  young  and  old  come  forth  to  play 

On  a  sunshine  holiday,0 

Till  the  livelong  daylight  fail : 

Then  to  the  spicy  nut-brown  ale,0  100 

With  stories  told  of  many  a  feat, 

How  Faery  Mab  the  junkets  eat0 

She0  was  pinched  and  pulled,  she  said; 

And  he,0  by  Friar's  lantern0  led, 

Tells  how  the  drudging  goblin0  sweat  105 

To  earn  his  cream-bowl  duly  set, 

When  in  one  night,  ere  glimpse  of  morn, 

His  shadowy  flail  hath  threshed  the  corn 

That  ten  day-labourers  could  not  end; 

Then  lies  him  down,  the  lubber  fiend,0  no 

And,  stretched  out  all  the  chimney's  length, 

Basks  at  the  fire  his  hairy  strength, 

And  crop-full  out  of  doors  he  flings, 

Ere  the  first  cock  his  matin  rings. 


MILTON'S  COMUS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

Thus  done  the  tales,  to  bed  they  creep,  115 

By  whispering  winds  soon  lulled  asleep. 

Towered  cities  please  us  then,0 

And  the  busy  hum  of  men, 

Where  throngs  of  knights  and  barons  bold, 

In  weeds0  of  peace,  high  triumphs0  hold,  120 

With  store  of  ladies,  whose  bright  eyes 

Rain  influence,0  and  judge  the  prize 

Of  wit  or  arms,  while  both  contend 

To  win  her  grace  whom  all  commend. 

There  let  Hymen  oft  appear0  125 

In  saffron  robe,0  with  taper  clear, 

And  pomp,  and  feast,  and  revelry, 

With  mask  and  antique  pageantry; 

Such  sights  as  youthful  poets  dream 

On  summer  eves  by  haunted  stream.  130 

Then  to  the  well-trod  stage  anon, 

If  Jonson's  learned  sock  be  on,0 

Or  sweetest  Shakespeare,  Fancy's  child, 

Warble  his  native  wood-notes  wild, 

And  ever,  against  eating  cares,  135 

Lap  me  in  soft  Lydian  airs,0 

Married  to  immortal  verse, 

Such  as  the  meeting  soul  may  pierce, 

In  notes  with  many  a  winding  bout0 


IL    PENSEROSO  9 

Of  linked  sweetness  long  drawn  out  140 

With  wanton  heed  and  giddy  cunning, 

The  melting  voice  through  mazes  running, 

Untwisting  all  the  chains  that  tie 

The  hidden  soul  of  harmony ; 

That  Orpheus'  self  may  heave  his  head  145 

From  golden  slumber  on  a  bed 

Of  heaped  Elysian  flowers,  and  hear 

Such  strains  as  would  have  won  the  ear 

Of  Pluto  to  have  quite  set  free 

His  half-regained  Eurydice.0  150 

These  delights  if  thou  canst  give, 

Mirth,  with  thee  I  mean  to  live. 


IL   PENSEBOSO 

HENCE,  vain  deluding  Joys,0 

The  brood  of  Eolly  without  father  bred! 
How  little  you  bested,0 

Or  fill  the  fixed  mind  with  all  your  toys ! 
Dwell  in  some  idle  brain, 

And  fancies  fond0  with  gaudy  shapes  possess, 
.  As  thick  and  numberless 

As  the  gay  motes  that  people  the  sun-beams, 


10  MILTON'S    COMUS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

Or  likest  hovering  dreams, 

The  fickle  pensioners0  of  Morpheus7  train.      10 
But,  hail!  thou  Goddess  sage  and  holy! 
Hail,  divinest  Melancholy !  ° 
Whose  saintly  visage  is  too  bright 
To  hit  the  sense0  of  human  sight, 
And  therefore  to  our  weaker  view  15 

O'erlaid  with  black,  staid  Wisdom's  hue; 
Black,  but  such  as  in  esteem 
Prince  Memnon's  sister0  might  beseem, 
Or  that  starred  Ethiop0  queen  that  strove 
To  set  her  beauty's  praise  above        .  20 

The  Sea-Nymphs,  and  their  powers  offended. 
Yet  thou  art  higher  far  descended : 
Thee  bright-haired  Vesta0  long  of  yore 
To  solitary  Saturn  bore; 

His  daughter  she;  in  Saturn's  reign  25 

Such  mixture  was  not  held  a  stain. 
Oft  in  glimmering  bowers  and  glades 
He  met  her,  and  in  secret  shades 
Of  woody  Ida's  inmost  grove, 
Whilst  yet  there  was  no  fear  of  Jove.  30 

Come,  pensive  Nun,  devout  and  pure, 
Sober,  steadfast,  and  demure, 
All  in  a  robe  of  darkest  grain,0 


IL    PENSEROSO  11 

Flowing  with  majestic  train, 

And  sable  stole0  of  cypress  lawn0  35 

Over  thy  decent  shoulders  drawn. 

Come ;  but  keep  thy  wonted  state, 

With  even  step,  and  musing  gait, 

And  looks  commercing0  with  the  skies, 

Thy  rapt  soul  sitting  in  thine  eyes :  40 

There,  held  in  holy  passion  still, 

Forget  thyself  to  marble,0  till 

With  a  sad  leaden0  downward  cast 

Thou  fix  them  on  the  earth  as  fast. 

And  join  with  thee  calm  Peace  and  Quiet,  45 

Spare  Fast,0  that  oft  with  gods  doth  diet, 

And  hears  the  Muses  in  a  ring 

Aye  round  about  Jove's  altar  sing; 

And  add  to  these  retired  Leisure, 

That  in  trim  gardens  takes  his  pleasure;  50 

But,  first  and  chief est,°  with  thee  bring 

Him  that  yon  soars  on  golden  wing, 

Guiding  the  fiery  wheeled  throne, 

The  Cherub  Contemplation;0 

And  the  mute  Silence  hist  along,0  55 

'Less  Philomel  will  deign  a  song, 

In  her  sweetest  saddest  plight, 

Smoothing  the  rugged  brow  of  Night, 


12  MILTON'S    COMUS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

While  Cynthia0  checks  her  dragon  yoke 

Gently  o'er  the  accustomed  oak.0  60 

Sweet  bird,  that  shunn'st  the  noise  of  folly, 

Most  musical,  most  melancholy !  ° 

Thee,  chauntress,  oft  the  woods  among 

I  woo,  to  hear  thy  even-song; 

And,  missing  thee,  I  walk  unseen  65 

On  the  dry  smooth-shaven  green, 

To  behold  the  wandering  moon, 

Riding  near  her  highest  noon, 

Like  one  that  had  been  led  astray 

Through  the  heaven's  wide  pathless  way,  70 

And  oft,  as  if  her  head  she  bowed, 

Stooping  through  a  fleecy  cloud. 

Oft,  on  a  plat  of  rising  ground,0 

I  hear  the  far-off  curfew  sound, 

Over  some  wide-watered  shore,  75 

Swinging  slow  with  sullen  roar; 

Or,  if  the  air0  will  not  permit, 

Some  still  removed  place  will  fit, 

Where  glowing  embers  through  the  room 

Teach  light  to  counterfeit  a  gloom,  80 

Far  from  all  resort  of  mirth, 

Save  the  cricket  on  the  hearth, 

Or  the  bellman's  drowsy  charm0 


IL    PENSEROSO-  13 

To  bless  the  doors  from  nightly  harm. 

Or  let  my  lamp,0  at  midnight  hour.  85 

Be  seen  in  some  high  lonely  tower, 

Where  I  may  oft  outwatch  the  Bear,0 

With  thrice-great  Hermes,0  or  unsphere0 

The  spirit  of  Plato,  to  unfold 

What  worlds  or  what  vast  regions  hold  90 

The  immortal  mind0  that  hath  forsook 

Her  mansion  in  this  fleshly  nook; 

And  of  those  demons0  that  are  found 

In  tire,  air,  flood,  or  underground, 

Whose  power  hath  a  true  consent  95 

With  planet  or  with  element. 

Sometime  let  gorgeous  Tragedy0 

In  sceptred  pall  come  sweeping  by, 

Presenting  Thebes,  or  Pelops'  line, 

Or  the  tale  of  Troy  divine,  100 

Or  what  (though  rare)  of  later  age0 

Ennobled  hath  the  buskined  stage. 

But,  0  sad  Virgin !  that  thy  power 

Might  raise  Musseus0  from  his  bower; 

Or  bid  the  soul  of  Orpheus  sing  105 

Such  notes  as,  warbled  to  the  string, 

Drew  iron  tears  down  Pluto's  cheek, 

And  made  Hell  grant  what  love  did  seek; 


14  MILTON'S    COMUS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

Or  call  up  him0  that  left  half-told 

The  story  of  Cambuscan  bold,  no 

Of  Camball,  and  of  Algarsife, 

And  who  had  Canace  to  wife, 

That  owned  the  virtuous  ring  and  glass, 

And  of  the  wondrous  horse  of  brass 

On  which  the  Tartar  king  did  ride;  115 

And  if  aught  else  great  bards0  beside 

In  sage  and  solemn  tunes  have  sung, 

Of  turneys,  and  of  trophies  hung, 

Of  forests,  and  enchantments  drear, 

Where  more  is  meant  than  meets  the  ear.          120 

Thus,  Night,  oft  see  me  in  thy  pale  career, 

Till  civil-suited0  Morn  appear, 

Not  tricked  and  frounced,  as  she  was  wont 

With  the  Attic  boy0  to  hunt, 

But  kerchieft  in  a  comely  cloud,  125 

While  rocking  winds  are  piping  loud, 

Or  ushered  with  a  shower  still, 

When  the  gust  hath  blown  his  fill, 

Ending  on  the  rustling  leaves, 

With  minute-drops  from  off  the  eaves.  130 

And,  when  the  sun  begins  to  fling 

His  flaring  beams,  me,  Goddess,  bring 

To  arched  walks  of  twilight  groves, 


IL    PENSEROSO  15 

And  shadows  brown,  that  Sylvan0  loves, 

Of  pine,  or  monumental0  oak,  135 

Where  the  rude  axe  with  heaved  stroke 

Was  never  heard  the  nymphs  to  daunt, 

Or  fright  them  from  their  hallowed  haunt. 

There,  in  close  covert,  by  some  brook, 

Where  no  profaner  eye  may  look,  140 

Hide  me  from  day's  garish  eye, 

While  the  bee  with  honeyed  thigh,0 

That  at  her  flowery  work  doth  sing, 

And  the  waters  murmuring, 

With  such  consort  as  they  keep,  145 

Entice  the  dewy-feathered0  Sleep. 

And  let  some  strange  mysterious  dream0 

Wave  at  his  wings,  in  airy  stream 

Of  lively  portraiture  displayed, 

Softly  on  my  eyelids  laid;  150 

And,  as  I  wake,  sweet  music  breathe 

Above,  about,  or  underneath, 

Sent  by  some  Spirit  to  mortals  good, 

Or  the  unseen  Genius  of  the  wood. 

But  let  my  due  feet  never  fail  155 

To  walk  the  studious  cloister's  pale,0 

And  love  the  high  embowed  roof, 

With  antique  pillars  massy-proof,0 


16  MILTON'S    COMUS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

And  storied0  windows  richly  dight, 

Casting  a  dim  religious  light.  160 

There  let  the  pealing  organ  blow, 

To  the  full-voiced  quire  below, 

In  service  high  and  anthems  clear, 

As  may  with  sweetness,  through  mine  ear, 

Dissolve  me  into  ecstasies,  165 

And  bring  all  Heaven  before  mine  eyes. 

And  may  at  last  my  weary  age0 

Find  out  the  peaceful  hermitage, 

The  hairy  gown  and  mossy  cell, 

Where  I  may  sit  and  rightly  spell  170 

Of  every  star  that  heaven  doth  shew, 

And  every  herb  that  sips  the  dew, 

Till  old  experience  do  attain 

To  something  like  prophetic  strain. 

These  pleasures,  Melancholy,  give;  175 

And  I  with  thee  will  choose  to  live. 


ARCADES  17 


ARCADES 

Part  of  an  Entertainment  presented  to  the  Countess 
Dowager  of  Derby  at  Harefield  by  some  Noble  Per- 
sons of  her  Family ;  who  appear  on  the  Scene  in 
pastoral  habit,  moving  toward  the  seat  of  state,  'with 
this  song : 

I.  Song 

LOOK,  Nymphs  and  Shepherds,  look! 
What  sudden  blaze  of  majesty 
Is  that  which  we  from  hence  descry, 
Too  divine  to  be  mistook?0 

This,  this  is  she  5 

To  whom  our  vows  and  wishes  bend : 
Here  our  solemn  search  hath  end. 
Fame,  that  her  high  worth  to  raise0 
Seemed  erst  so  lavish  and  profuse, 
We  may  justly  now  accuse  10 

Of  detraction  from  her  praise : 

Less  than  half  we  find  expressed; 

Envy  bid  conceal  the  rest. 

Mark  what  radiant  state0  she  spreads, 

In  circle  round  her  shining  throne  15 


18  MILTON'S    COMUS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

Shooting  her  beams  like  silver  threads : 
This,  this  is  she  alone, 

Sitting  like  a  goddess  bright 

In  the  centre  of  her  light. 

Might  she  the  wise  Latona0  be,  20 

Or  the  towered  Cybele,0 

Mother  of  a  hundred  gods? 

Juno  dares  not  give  her  odds :  ° 

Who  had  thought  this  clime  had  held 

A  deity  so  unparalleled?  25 


As  they  come  forward,  THE   GENIUS   OF   THE  WOOD 
appears,  and,  turning  toward  them,  speaks. 

Gen.    Stay,  gentle0  Swains,  for,  though  in  this  dis- 
guise, 

I  see  bright  honour0  sparkle  through  your  eyes ; 
Of  famous  Arcady  ye  are,  and  sprung 
Of  that  renowned  flood,  so  often  sung, 
Divine  Alpheus,0  who,  by  secret  sluice,  30 

Stole  under  seas  to  meet  his  Arethuse; 
And  ye,  the  breathing  roses  of  the  wood, 
Fair  silver-buskined  Nymphs,0  as  great  and  good. 


ARCADES  19 

I  know  this  quest  of  yours  and  free0  intent 

Was  all  in  honour  and  devotion  meant  35 

To  the  great  mistress  of  yon  princely  shrine, 

Whom  with  low  reverence  I  adore  as  mine, 

And  with  all  helpful  service  will  comply 

To  further  this  night's  glad  solemnity, 

And  lead  ye  where  ye  may  more  near  behold  40 

What  shallow-searching  Fame  hath  left  untold; 

Which  I  full  oft,  amidst  these  shades  alone, 

Have  sat  to  wonder  at,  and  gaze  upon. 

For  know,  by  lot  from  Jove,  I  am  the  Power 

Of  this  fair  wood,  and  live  in  oaken  bower,  45 

To  nurse  the  saplings  tall,  and  curl0  the  grove 

With  ringlets  quaint  and  wanton  windings  wove;0 

And  all  my  plants  I  save  from  nightly  ill 

Of  noisome  winds  and  blasting  vapours  chill ; 

And  from  the  boughs  brush  off  the  evil  dew,  50 

And  heal  the  harms  of  thwarting0  thunder  blue, 

Or  what  the  cross  dire-looking  planet0  smites, 

Or  hurtful  worm0  with  cankered  venom  bites. 

When  evening  grey  doth  rise,  I  fetch  my  round 

Over  the  mount,  and  all  this  hallowed  ground;          55 

And  early,  ere  the  odorous  breath  of  morn 

Awakes  the  slumbering  leaves,  or  tasselled  horn0 

Shakes  the  high  thicket,  haste  I  all  about, 


20  MILTON'S    COMUS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

Number  my  ranks,  and  visit  every  sprout 

With  puissant  words  and  murmurs0  made  to  bless.    60 

But  else,  in  deep  of  night,  when  drowsiness 

Hath  locked  up  mortal  sense,  then  listen  I 

To  the  celestial  Sirens'  harmony,0 

That  sit  upon  the  nine  infolded  spheres, 

And  sing  to  those  that  hold  the  vital  shears,  65 

And  turn  the  adamantine  spindle  round 

On  which  the  fate  of  gods  and  men  is  wound.0 

Such  sweet  compulsion  doth  in  music  lie, 

To  lull  the  daughters  of  Necessity, 

And  keep  unsteady  Nature0  to  her  law,  70 

And  the  low  world  in  measured  motion  draw 

After  the  heavenly  tune,  which  none  can  hear0 

Of  human  mould  with  gross  unpurged  ear. 

And  yet  such  music  worthiest  were  to  blaze 

The  peerless  height  of  her  immortal  praise  75 

Whose  lustre  leads  us,  and  for  her  most  fit, 

If  my  inferior  hand  or  voice  could  hit 

Inimitable  sounds.     Yet,  as  we  go, 

Whatever  the  skill  of  lesser  gods  can  show 

I  will  assay,  her  worth  to  celebrate,  80 

And  so  attend  ye  toward  her  glittering  state;0 

Where  ye  may  all,  that  are  of  noble  stem, 

Approach,  and  kiss  her  sacred  vesture's  hem. 


ARCADES  21 

II.  Song 

O'er  the  smooth  enamelled  green, 

Where  no  print  of  step  hath  been,  85 

Follow  me,  as  I  sing 

And  touch  the  warbled  string : 
Under  the  shady  roof0 
Of  branching  elm  star-proof 

Follow  me.  90 

I  will  bring  you  where  she  sits, 
Clad  in  splendor  as  befits 

Her  deity. 
Such  a  rural  Queen 
All  Arcadia  hath  not  seen.  95 

III.  Song 

Nymphs  and  Shepherds,  dance  no  more 

By  sandy  LadonV  lilied  banks; 
On  old  Lycseus,  or  Cyllene  hoar, 

Trip  no  more  in  twilight  ranks; 
Though  Erymanth  your  loss  deplore,  100 

A  better  soil  shall  give  ye  thanks. 
From  the  stony  Msenalus 
Bring  your  flocks,  and  live  with  us ; 


22  MILTON'S    COMUS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

Here  ye  shall  have  greater  grace, 
To  serve  the  Lady  of  this  place.  105 

Though  Syrinx  your  Pan's  mistress  were, 
Yet  Syrinx  well  might  wait  on  her. 

Such  a  rural  Queen 

All  Arcadia  hath  not  seen. 


COMUS 

"A  MASQUE   PRESENTED  AT   LUDLOW   CASTLE,    1634,    &C." 

(For  the  Title-pages  of  the  Editions  of  163T  and  1645  see  Notes  at  p.  122 
and  p.  123.) 

DEDICATION   OF  LAWES'   EDITION   OF  1637. 
(Eeprinted  in  the  Edition  of  1645,  but  omitted  in  that  of  1673.) 

"  To  the  Eight  Honourable  John,  Lord  Brackley,  son  and  heir- 
apparent  to  the  Earl  of  Bridgewater,  &c." 
"My  Lord, 

"This  Poem,  which  received  its  first  occasion  of 
birth  from  yourself  and  others  of  your  noble  family,  and  much 
honour  from  your  own  person  in  the  performance,  now  returns 
again  to  make  a  final  dedication  of  itself  to  you.  Although  not 
openly  acknowledged  by  the  Author,  yet  it  is  a  legitimate  off- 
spring, so  lovely  and  so  much  desired  that  the  often  copying  of 
it  hath  tired  my  pen  to  give  my  several  friends  satisfaction,  and 
brought  me  to  a  necessity  of  producing  it  to  the  public  view, 
and  now  to  offer  it  up,  in  all  rightful  devotion,  to  those  fair 


COMUS  23 

hopes  and  rare  endowments  of  your  much-promising  youth, 
which  give  a  full  assurance  to  all  that  know  you  of  a  future 
excellence.  Live,  sweet  Lord,  to  be  the  honour  of  your  name  ; 
and  receive  this  as  your  own  from  the  hands  of  him  who  hath 
by  many  favours  been  long  obliged  to  your  most  honoured 
Parents,  and,  as  in  this  representation  your  attendant  Thyrsis, 
so  now  in  all  real  expression 

44  Your  faithful  and  most  humble  Servant, 

"H.  Lawes." 

44  The  Copy  of  a  Letter  written  by  Sir  Henry  Wotton  to  the 
Author  upon  the  following  poem." 

(In  the  Edition  of  1645  :  omitted  in  that  of  16T3.) 

"From  the  College,  this  13  of  Apiil,  1638. 

"Sir, 

u  It  was  a  special  favour  when  you  lately  bestowed 
upon  me  here  the  first  taste  of  your  acquaintance,  though  no 
longer  than  to  make  me  know  that  I  wanted  more  time  to  value 
it  and  to  enjoy  it  rightly ;  and,  in  truth,  if  I  could  then  have 
imagined  your  farther  stay  in  these  parts,  which  I  understood 
afterwards  by  Mr.  H.,  I  would  have  been  bold,  in  our  vulgar 
phrase,  to  mend  my  draught  (for  you  left  me  with  an  extreme 
thirst),  and  to  have  begged  your  conversation  again,  jointly 
with  your  said  learned  friend,  over  a  poor  meal  or  two,  that 
we  might  have  banded  together  some  good  Authors  of  the 
ancient  time ;  among  which  I  observed  you  to  have  been 
familiar. 

"Since  your  going,  you  have  charged  me  with  new  obliga- 
tions, both  for  a  very  kind  letter  from  you  dated  the  6th  of  this 


24       MILTON'S  COMUS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

month,  and  for  a  dainty  piece  of  entertainment  which  came 
therewith.  Wherein  I  should  much  commend  the  tragical  part, 
if  the  lyrical  did  not  ravish  me  with  a  certain  Doric  delicacy 
in  your  Songs  and  Odes,  whereunto  I  must  plainly  confess  to 
have  seen  yet  nothing  parallel  in  our  language  :  Ipsa  mollities. 
.But  I  must  not  omit  to  tell  you  that  I  now  only  owe  you  thanks 
for  intimating  unto  me  (how  modestly  soever)  the  true  artifi- 
cer. For  the  work  itself  I  had  viewed  some  good  while  before 
with  singular  delight;  having  received  it  from  our  common 
friend  Mr.  R.,  in  the  very  close  of  the  late  R.'s  Poems,  printed 
at  Oxford :  whereunto  it  was  added  (as  I  now  suppose)  that 
the  accessory  might  help  out  the  principal,  according  to  the 
art  of  Stationers,  and  to  leave  the  reader  con  la  bocca  dolce. 

u  Now,  Sir,  concern  ing  your  travels  ;  wherein  I  may  challenge 
a  little  more  privilege  of  discourse  with  you.  I  suppose  you 
will  not  blanch  Paris  in  your  way :  therefore  I  have  been  bold 
to  trouble  you  with  a  few  lines  to  Mr.  M.  B.,  whom  you  shall 
easily  find  attending  the  young  Lord  S.  as  his  governor ;  and 
you  may  surely  receive  from  him  good  directions  for  the  shap- 
ing of  your  farther  journey  into  Italy  where  he  did  reside,  by 
my  choice,  some  time  for  the  King,  after  mine  own  recess  from 
Venice. 

"  I  should  think  that  your  best  line  will  be  through  the  whole 
length  of  France  to  Marseilles,  and  thence  by  sea  to  Genoa ; 
whence  the  passage  into  Tuscany  is  as  diurnal  as  a  Gravesend 
barge.  I  hasten,  as  you  do,  to  Florence  or  Siena,  the  rather  to 
tell  you  a  short  story,  from  the  interest  you  have  given  me  in 
your  safety. 

"  At  Siena  I  was  tabled  in  the  house  of  one  Alberto  Scipioni, 


COMUS  25 

an  old  "Roman  courtier  in  dangerous  times  ;  having  been  steward 
to  the  Duca  di  Pagliano,  who  with  all  his  family  were  strangled, 
save  this  only  man  that  escaped  by  foresight  of  the  tempest. 
With  him  I  had  often  much  chat  of  those  affairs,  into  which 
he  took  pleasure  to  look  back  from  his  native  harbour ;  and, 
at  my  departure  toward  Rome  (which  had  been  the  centre  of 
his  experience),  I  had  won  his  confidence  enough  to  beg  his 
advice  how  I  might  carry  myself  there  without  offence  of  others 
or  of  mine  own  conscience.  '  Signor  Arrigo  mio,"1  says  he,  '/ 
pensieri  stretti  ed  il  viso  sciolto  will  go  safely  over  the  whole 
world.'  Of  which  Delphian  oracle  (for  so  I  have  found  it) 
your  judgment  doth  need  no  commentary  ;  and  therefore,  Sir, 
I  will  commit  you,  with  it,  to  the  best  of  all  securities,  God's 
dear  love,  remaining 

"  Your  friend,  as  much  to  command  as  any  of  longer  date, 

"HENRY  WOTTON." 

Postscript 

"  Sir :  I  have  expressly  sent  this  my  footboy  to  prevent  your 
departure  without  some  acknowledgment  from  me  of  the  re- 
ceipt of  your  obliging  letter ;  having  myself  through  some  busi- 
ness, I  know  not  how,  neglected  the  ordinary  conveyance.  In 
any  part  where  I  shall  understand  you  fixed,  I  shall  be  glad 
and  diligent  to  entertain  you  with  home-novelties,  even  for 
some  fomentation  of  our  friendship,  too  soon  interrupted  in 
the  cradle." 


26        MILTON'S  COMUS  AND   OTHER  POEMS 


THE   PERSONS 

The  ATTENDANT  SPIRIT,  afterwards  in  the  habit  of  THYRSIS. 

COMUS,  with  his  Crew. 

THE  LADY. 

FIRST  BROTHER. 

SECOND  BROTHER. 

SABRINA,  the  Nymph. 

The  Chief  Persons  which  presented  were :  — 

The  Lord  Brackley  ; 

Mr.  Thomas  Egerton,  his  Brother ; 

The  Lady  Alice  Egerton. 

[This  list  of  the  Persons,  &c.,  appeared  in  the  Edition  of  1645,  but  was  omitted 
in  that  of  1673.] 


COMUS  27 

COMUS 

The  first  Scene  discovers  a  wild  wood 

The  ATTENDANT  SPIRIT  descends  or  enters 

BEFORE  the  starry  threshold  of  Jove's  court 
My  mansion  is,  where  those  immortal  shapes 
Of  bright  aerial  spirits  live  insphered0 
In  regions  n^ild  of  calm  and  s4rene°  air, 
Above  the  smoke  and  stir  of  this  dim  spot  5 

Which  men  call  Earth,  and,  with  low-thoughted  care, 
Confined  and  pestered0  in  this  pinfold0  here, 
Strive  to  keep  up  a  frail  and  feverish  being, 
Unmindful  of  the  crown  that  Virtue  gives, 
After  this  mortal  change,  to  her  true  servants 
Amongst  the  gnthroned0,  _gods  on  sainted  seats, 
Yet  some  there  be  that  by  due  steps  aspire 
To  lay  their  just  hands  on  that  golden  key0  c 
That  opes  the  palace  of  eternity. 
To  such  my  errand  is;  and,  but  for  such,  15 

I  would  not  soil  these  pure  ambrosial  weedsj3 
With  the  rank  vapours  of  this  sin-worn  mould. 
But  to  my  task.     Neptune,  besides  the  sway 
Of  every  salt  flood  and  each  ebbing  stream, 
Tookjn,  by  lot^jbwixt  high  and  nether  Jove,0 
Imperial  rule  of  all  the  sea-girt  isles 


28  MILTON'S    COMUS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

That,  like  to  rich  and  various  gems,  inlay 
The  unadorned0  bosom  of  the  deep; 
Which  he,  to  grace  his  tributary  gods,  . 

By  course  commits  to  several0  government,  M^ ^    '  25 
And  gives  them  leave  to  wear  their  sapphire  crowns 
And  wield  their  little  tridents.     But  this  Isle,0 
The  greatest  and  the  best  of  all  the  main, 
He  quarters?  to  his  blue-haired0  deities ; 
And  all  this  tract0  that  fronts  the  falling  sun 
A  noble  Peer0^of  jnickle0  trust_an(l  power 
Has  in  his  charge,  with  tempered  awe  to  guide 
An  old  and  haughty  nation,0  proud  in  arms: 
Where  his  fair  offspring,  nursed0  in  princely  lore, 
Are  coming  to  attend  their  father^sstate,  35 

And  new-intrusted  sceptre.     But  their  way 
Lies  through  the  perplexed  paths  of  this  drear- wood, 
The  nodding  horror  of  whose  shady  brows 
Threats  the  forlorn  and  wandering  passenger;.  \    (jL  " 
And  here  their  tender  age  might  suffer  peril,  Vr\  40 
But  that,  by  quick  command  from  sovran  Jove, 
I  was  despatched  for  their  defence  and  guard! 
And  listen  why;  for  I  will  tell0  you  now 
What  never  yet  was  heard  in  tale  or  song, 
From  old  or  modern  bard,  in  hall  or  bower.0  45 

Bacchus,0  that  first  from  out  the  purple  grape"^ 


COMUS  29. 


Crushed  the  sweet  poison  of  misused  wine, 

After  the  Tuscan  mariners  transformed,0 

Coasting  the  Tyrrhene  shore,  as  the  winds  listed, 

On  Circe's  island0  fell.      (Who  knows  not  Circe,  J    50 

The  daughter  of  the  Sun,  whose  charmed  cup  V 

Whoever  tasted  lost  his  upright  shape 

And  downward  fell  into  a  grovelling  swine?) 

This  Nymph,0  that  gazed  upon  his  clustering  locks 

With  ivy  berries  wreathed,  and  his  blithe  youth,      55 

Had  by  him,  ere  he  parted  thence,  a  son 

Much  like  his  father,  but  his  mother  more, 

Whom  therefore  she  brought  up,  and  Comus  named : 

Who,  ripe  and  frolic  of  his  full-grown  age, 

Eoving  the  Celtic0  and  Iberian0  fields,  60 

At  last  betakes  him  to  this  ominous  wood, 

And,  in  thick  shelter  of  black  shades  imbowered, 

Excels  his  mother  at  her  mighty  art; 

Offering  to  every  weary  traveller 

His  Qj^ent0  liquor  in  a  crystal  glass,  65 

To  quench  the  drouth  of  Phoebus;  which  as  they  taste 

(For  most  do  taste  through  fond^  intemperate  thirst), 

Soon  as  the  potion  works,  their  human  countenance, 

The  express  resemblance  of  the  gods^^J^ch^in^ 

Into  some  brutish  form  of  wolf  or  bear, 

Or  ounce  or  tiger,  hog,  or  bearded  goat, 


30        MILTON'S  COMUS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

All  other  parts  remaining  as  they  were. 
And  they,  so  perfect  is  their  misery, 
Not  once  perceive0  their  foul  disfigurement, 
But  boast  themselves  more  comely  than  before,          75 
And  all  their  friends  and  native  home  forget, 
To  roll  with  pleasure  in  a  sensual  sty. 
Therefore,  when  any^faj^ured_of^high  Jove 
Chances  to  pass  through  this  adventurous  glade, 
Swift  as  the  sparkle  of  a  glancing  star  80 

I  shoot  from  heaven,  to  give  him  safe  convoy, 
As  now  I  do.     But  first  I  must  put  off 
These  my  sky -robes  spun  out  of  Iris7  woof,0 
jHt~,And  take  the  weeds  and  likeness  of  a  swain0 
/7    That  to  the  service  of  this  house  belongs,  85 

Who,  with  his  soft  pipe  and  smooth-dittied  song, 
Well  knows  to  still  the  wild  winds  when  they  roar, 
And  hush  the  waving  woods;  nor  of  less  faith,0 
And  in  this  office  of  his  mountain  watch 
Likeliest,  and  nearest  to  the  present  aid  90 

Of  this  occasion.     But  I  hear  the  tread 
Of  hateful  steps;  I  must  be  viewless  now.0 

COMUS  enters,  with  a  charming -rod  in  one  hand,  his  glass  in  the  other ; 
with  him  a  rout  of  monsters,  headed  like  sundry  sorts  of  wild  beasts, 
but  otherwise  like  men  and  women,  their  apparel  glistening.  They 
come  in  making  a  riotous  and  unruly  noise,  with  torches  in  their 
hands 


COMUS  31 

Comus.    The  star -that  bids  the  shepherd  fold 
Now  the  top  of  heaven  doth  hold;        £A~A-i^-r>. 
And  the  gilded  car  of  day0 
His  glowing  axle  doth  allay 
In  the  steep  Atlantic  stream: 
And  the  slope0  sun  his  upward  beam 
Shoots  against  the  dusky  pole, 

Pacing  toward  the  other  goal  100 

Of  his  chamber  in  the  east. 
Meanwhile,  welcome  joy  and  feast, 
Midnight  shout  and  revelry, 
Tipsy  dance  and  jollity. 

Braid  your  locks  with  rosy  twine,0  105 

Dropping  odours,  dropping  wine. 
Bigour  now  is  gone  to  bed; 
And  Advice  with  scrupulous  head, 
Strict  Age,  and  sour  Severity, 
With  their  grave  saws,0  in  slumber  lie.  no 

We,  that  are  of  purer  fire, 
Imitate  the  starry  quire, 
Who,  in  their  nightly  watchful  spheres,0 
Lej4  in  swift  round  the  months  and  years. 

sounds  and  seas,  with  all  their  finny  drove,       115 
Now  to  the  moon  in  wavering  morrice0  move; 
And  on  the  tawny  sands  and  shelves 


32        MILTON'S  COMUS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

Trip  the  pert  fairies  and  the  dapper  elves. 
By  dimpled  brook  and  fountain-brim, 
The  wood-nymphs,  decked  with  daisies  trim,  120 

Their  merry  wakes  and  pastimes  keep : 
What  hath  night  to  do  with  sleep? 
Night  hath  better  sweets  to  prove ; 
Venus  now  wakes,  and  wakens  Love. 
Come,  let  us  our  rites  begin ;  125 

?Tis  only  daylight  that  makes  sin, 
Which  these  dun  shades  will  ne'er 
Hail,  goddess  of  nocturnal  sport,    ^  •  v* 
Dark-veiled  Cotytto,0  to  whom  the  secret  flame 
Of  midnight  torches  burns!  mysterious  dame,  130 

That  ne'er  art  called  but  when  the  dragon  womb 
Of  Stygian  darkness  spets0  her  thickest  gloom, 
And  makes  one  blot  of*  all  the  air ! 
Stay  thy  cloudy  ebon  chair, 

Wherein  thou  ridest  with  Hecat',0  and  befriend       135 
Us  thy  vowed  priests,  till  utmost  end 
Of  all  thy  dues  be  done,  and  none  left 
Ere  the  blabbing  eastern  scout,  ^*Jri 
ni^e  Morn  on  the  Indian  steep, 
From  her  cabined  loop-hole  peep,  140 

And  to  the  tell-tale  Sun  descry 
Our  concealed  solemnity. 


COMUS  33 


Come,  knit  hands,  and  beat  the  ground  <* 
In  a  light  fantastic  round.0 


The  Measure         *^* 

Break  off,  break  off  !  I  feel  the  different  pace  145 

Of  some  chaste  .footing  near  about  this  ground.  ^*ft*^° 
Kun    to    your    shrouds    within    these    brakes    and 

trees; 

Our  number  may  affright.     Some  virgin  sure 
(For  so  I  can  distinguish  by  mine  art) 
Benighted  in  these  woods!     Now  to  my  charms,      150 
And  to  my  wily  grains  :  °  I  shall  ere  long 
Be  well  stocked  with  as  fair  a  herd  as  grazed 
About  my  mother  Circe.     Thus  IJmrl 
My  dazzling  spells0  into  the  spongy  air 
"  Of  power  to  cheat  the  eye  with  blear  illusion,  155 

And  give  it  false  presentments,  lest  the  place 
And  my  quaint  habits  breed  astonishment, 
And  put  the  damsel  to  suspicious  flight; 
Which  must  not  be,  for  that's  against  my  course. 
I,  under  fair  pretence  of  friendly  ends,  160 

And  well-placed  words  of  glozing  courtesy, 
Baited  with  reasons  not  unplausible, 
Wind  me  into  the  easy-hearted  man, 
And  hug  him  into  snares.  "WEen  once  her  eye 


34  MILTON'S    COMUS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

Hath  met  the  virtue  of  this  magic  dust  165 

I  shall  appear  some  harmless  villager, 

Whom  thrift0  keeps  up  about  his  country  gear.  v^*^^> 

But  here  she  comes ;  I  fairly  step  aside, 

And  hearken,  if  I  may  her  business  hear. 

The  LADY  enters 

Lady.    This  way  the  sound  was,   if  mine  ear  be 

true, 

My  best  guide  now.     Methought  it  was  the  sound   171 
Of  riot  and  ill-managed  merriment, 
Such  as  the  jocund  flute  or  gamesome  pipe 
Stirs  up  among  the  loose  unlettered  hinds, 
When,  for  their  teeming  flocks  and  granges0  full/)  175 
In  wanton  dance  they  praise  the  bounteous  Pan, 
And  thank  the  gods  amiss.     I  should  be  loth 
To  meet  the  rudeness  and  ^willeainsolence 
Of  such  late  wassailers;  yet,  oh!  where  else 
Shall  I  inform  my  unacquainted  feet  180 

In  the  blind  mazes  of  this  tangled  wood? 
My  brothers,  when  they  saw  me  wearied  out 
With  this  long  way,  resolving  here  to  lodge 
Under  the  spreading  favour  of  these  pines, 
Stepped,  as  they  said,  to  the  next  thicket-side          185 
To  bring  me  berries,  or  such  cooling  fruit 


COMUS  35 

As  the  kind  hospitable  woods  provide. 

They  left  me  then  when  the  grej -hooded  Even,0 

Ljkji_a_gad  votarist  in  palmer *s  weed,  t**** 

Rose  from  the  hindmost  wheels  of  Phoebus'  wain.   190 

But  where  they  are,  and  why  they  come  not  back, 

Is  now  the  labour  of  my  thoughts.     'Tis  likeliest 

They  had  engaged  their  wandering  steps  too  far ; 

And  envious  darkness,  ere  they  could  return, 

Had  stole  them  from  me.     Else,  0  thievish  Night, 

Why  should'st  thou,  but  for  some  felonious  end,      196 

In  thy  dark  lantern  thus  close  up  the  stars 

That  Nature  hung  in  heaven,  and  filled  their  lamps 

With  everlasting  oil,  to  give  due  light 

To  the  misled  and  lonely  traveller?  200 

This  is  the  place,  as  well  as  I  may  guess, 

Whence  even  now  the  tumult  of  loud  mirth 

Was  rife,  and  perfect  in  my  listening  ear; 

Yet  nought  but  single0  darkness  do  I  find. 

What  might  this  be?  'A  thousand  fantasies~\  *j  tf?$i  <• 

.  1   jL  *  yH/wi,y ~^y 

Begin  to  throng  into  my  memory,  V-^W*^  A, 

Of  calling_^hages,  °  and  beckoning  shadows  direi~2Cy*<.*.///j 
And  airy  tongues  that  syllable  men's  names      1  ^M*ju^£t| 
On  sands  and  shores  and  desert  wildernesses.  +J 
These  thoughts  may  startle  well,  but  not  astound    210 
The  virtuous  mind,  that  ever  walks  attended 


36  MILTON'S    COMUS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 


By  a  strong  siding  champion,  Conscience. 
0^  welcome,  pure-eyed  Faith,  white-handed  Hope, 
Thou  hovering  angel  girt  with  golden  wings, 
And  thou  unblemished  form  of  Chastity!0  215 

xjA-  I  see  ye  visibly,  and  now  believe 

That  He,  the  Supreme  Good,  to  whom  all  things  ill 
Are  but  as  slavish  officers  of  vengeance, 
Would  send  a  glistering  guardian,  if  need  were, 
_  To  keep  my  life  and  honour  unassailed.   ...  220 

Was  I  deceived,  or  did  a  sable  cloud 
Turn  forth  her  silver  lining  on  the  night? 
I  did  not  err  :  there  does  a  sable  cloud 
Turn  forth  her  silver  lining  on  the  night, 
And  casts  a  gleam  over  this  tufted  grove.  225 

I  cannot  hallo  to  my  brothers,  but 
Such  noise  as  I  can  make  to  be  heard  farthest 
I'll  venture;  for  my  new-enlivened  spirits 
Prompt  me,  and  they  perhaps  are  not  far  off. 


Song 

Sweet  Echo,  sweetest  nymph,  that  liv'st  unseen      230 
Within  thy  airy  shell   ; 

By  slow  Meander's0  margent  green,  *- 
And  in  the  violet-embroidered  ^ale 

Where  the  love-lorn  nightingale0  tx 


COMUS  37 

Nightly  to  thee  her  sad  song  mourneth  well :  ^        235 
Canst  thou  not  tell  me  of  a  gentle  pair    & 

That  likest  thy  Narcissus0  are?       ^ 
O,  if  thou  have 

Hid  them  in  some  flowery  cave, 

Tell  me  but  where,       4  24° 

Sweet  jjueenj of  Parley,  I>aughterj)f  the  Sphere !  +• 
So  may'st  thou  be  translated  to  the  skies, 
And  give  resounding  grace  to  all  Heaven's  harmonies! 

Comus.    Can  any  mortal  mixture  of  earth's  mould 
Breathe  such  divine  enchanting  ravishment?  245 

Sure  something  holy  lodges  in  that  breast, 
And  with  these  raptures  moves  the  vocal  air 
To  testify  his  hidden  residence. 
How  sweetly  did  they  float  upon  the  wings 
Of  silence,  through  the  empty-vaulted  night,  250 

At  every  fall  smoothing  the  raven  down 
Of  darkness  till  it  smiled!     I  have  oft  heard 
My  mother  Circe  with  the  Sirens0  three, 
Amidst  the  flowery-kirtled0  Naiades, 
<  Culling  their  potent  herbs  and  baleful  drugs,  255 

Who,  as  they  sung,  would  take  the  prisoned  soul, 
And  lap  it  in  Elysium :  Scylla0  wept, 
And  chid  her  barking  waves  into  attention,   / 


38  MILTON'S    COMUS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

And  fell  Charybdis0  murmured  soft  applause. 

Yet  they  in  pleasing  slumber  lulled  the  sense,          260 

And  in  sweet  madness  robbed  it  of  itself; 

But  such  a  sacred  and  home-felt  delight, 

Such  sober  certainty  of  waking  bliss, 

I  never  heard  till  now.     I'll  speak  to  her, 

And  she  shall  be  my  queen.  — Hail,  foreign  wonder! 

Whom  certain  these  rough  shades  did  never  breed,  266 

Unless0  the  goddess  that  in  rural  shrine 

DwelPst  here  with  Pan  or  Sylvan,  by  blest  song 

Forbidding  every  bleak  unkindly  fog 

To  touch  the  prosperous  growth  of  this  tall  wood.   270 

Lady.    Nay,  gentle  shepherd,  ill  is  lost  that  praise 
That  is  addressed  to  unattending  ears. 
Not  any  boast  of  skill,  but  extreme  shift 
How  to  regain  my  severed  company, 
Compelled  me  to  awake  the  courteous  Echo  275 

To  give  me  answer  from  her  mossy  couch. 

Comus.    What  chance,  good  Lady,  hath  bereft  you 
thus? 

Lady.    Dim  darkness  and  this  heavy  labyrinth. 

Comus.    Could  that  divide  you  from  near-ushering 
guides? 

Lady.    They  left  me  weary  on  a  grassy  turf.         280 

Comus.    By  falsehood,  or  discourtesy,  or  why? 


COMUS  39 

Lady.    To  seek   i'   the   valley  some  cool  friendly 

spring. 
Comus.    And   left   your  fair   side   all   unguarded, 

Lady? 
Lady.    They  were  but  twain,  and  purposed  quick 

return. 

Comus.    Perhaps  forestalling  night  prevented  them. 
Lady.    How  easy  my  misfortune  is  to  hit!  286 

Comus.    Imports  their  loss,  beside  the  present  need?" 
Lady.    No  less  than  if  I  should  my  brothers  lose. 
Comus.    Were  they  of  manly  prime,   or  youthful 

bloom? 

Lady.    As  smooth  as  Hebe's0  their  unrazored  lips. 
Comus.    Two  such  I  saw,  what  time  the  laboured 

OX  291 

In  his  loose  traces  from  the  furrow  came, 

And  the  s winked0  hedger  at  his  supper  sat/W^- 

I  saw  them  under  a  green  mantling  vine, 

That  crawls  along  the  side  of  yon  small  hill,  295 

Plucking  ripe  clusters  from  the  tender  shoots ; 

Their  port  was  more  than  human,  as  they  stood. 

I  took  it  for  a  faery  vision 

Of  some  gay  creatures  of  the  element,0 

That  in  the  colours  of  the  rainbow  live,  300 

And  play  i7  the  plighted0  clouds.     I  was  awe-strook, 


40  MILTON'S    COMUS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

And,  as  I  passed,  I  worshipped.     If  those  you  seek, 
It  were  a  journey  like  the  path  to  Heaven 
To  help  you  find  them. 

Lady.  Gentle  villager, 

What  readiest  way  would  bring  me  to  that  place?   305 

Comus.    Due  west  it  rises'  from  this  shrubby  point. 

Lady.    To  find  out  that,  good  shepherd,  I  suppose, 
In  such  a  scant  allowance  of  star-light, 
Would  overtask  the  best  land-pilot's  art, 
Without  the  sure  guess  of  well-practised  feet.  310 

Comus.    I  know  each  lane,  and  every  alley  green, 
Dingle,  or  bushy  dell,  of  this  wild  wood, 
And  every  bosky0  bourn  from  side  to  side, 
My  daily  walks  and  ancient  neighbourhood; 
And,  if  your  stray  attendance0  be  yet  lodged,  315 

Or  shroud  within  these  limits,  I  shall  know 
Ere  morrow  wake,  or  the  low-roosted0  lark 
From  her  thatched  pallet  rouse.     If  otherwise, 
I  can  conduct  you,  Lady,  to  a  low 
But  loyal  cottage,  where  you  may  be  safe  320 

Till  further  quest. 

Lady.  Shepherd,  I  take  thy  word, 

And  trust  thy  honest-offered  courtesy, 
Which  oft  is  sooner  found  in  lowly  sheds, 
With  smoky  rafters,  than  in  tapestry  halls 


COMUS  41 

And  courts  of  princes,  where  it  first  was  named,      325 

And  yet  is  most  pretended.     In  a  place 

Less  warranted  than  this,  or  less  secure, 

I  cannot  be,  that  I  should  fear  to  change  it. 

Eye  me,  blest  Providence,  and  square  my  trial 

To  my  proportioned  strength!  Shepherd,  lead  on.  ...  330 

The  Two  BROTHERS 

Eld.  Bro.    Unmuffl  e,  ye  faint  stars ;  and  thou,  fair 

moon, 

That  wont'st  to  love  the  traveller's  benison, 
Stoop  thy  pale  visage  through  an  amber  cloud, 
And  disinherit0  Chaos,  that  reigns  here 
In  double  night  of  darkness  and  of  shades;  335 

Or,  if  your  influence  be  quite  dammed  up 
With  black  usurping  mists,  some  gentle  taper, 
Though  a  rush-candle  from  the  wicker  hole 
Of  some  clay  habitation,  visit  us 

With  thy  long  levelled  rule  of  streaming  light,        340 
And  thou  shalt  be  our  star  of  Arcady,0 
Or  Tyrian  Cynosure.        j'  fjj^          JL^ 

Sec.  Bro.  Or,  if  ourfeyesr- 

Be  barred  that  happiness,  might  we  but  hear  ^^^ 

The  folded  flocks,  penned  in  their  wattled  cotes, 
Or  sound  of  pastoral  reed  with  oaten  stops,  345 


42  MILTON'S    COMUS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

Or  whistle  from  the  lodge,  or  village  cock 
Count  the  night-watches  to  his  feathery  dames, 
?T  would  be  some  solace  yet,  some  little  cheering, 
In  this  close  dungeon  of  inmimerous  boughs. £tr»t  *" 
But,  oh,  that  hapless  virgin,  our  lost  sister!  350 

Where  may  she  wander  now,  whither  betake  her 
From  the  chill  dew,  amongst  rude  burs  and  thistles? 
Perhaps  some  cold  bank  is  her  bolster  now, 
Or  'gainst  the  rugged  bark  of  some  broad  elm 
Leans  her  unpillowed  head,  fraught  with  sad  fears.  355 
What  if  in  wild  amazement  and  affright, 
Or,  while  we  speak,  within  the  direful  grasp 
Of  savage  hunger,  or  of  savage  heat! 

Eld.  Bro.    Peace,  brother:  be  not  over-exquisite 
To  cast  thejashion0  of  uncertain  evils;  360 

For,  grant  they  be  so,  while  they  rest  unknown, 
What  need  a  man  forestall  his  date  of  grief, 
And  run  to  meet  what  he  would  most  avoid? 
Or,  if  they  be  but  false  alarms  of  fear, 
How  bitter  is  such  self-delusion!  365 

I  do  not  think  my  sister  so  to  seek,0 
Or  so  unprincipled0  in  virtue's  book, 
And  the  "sweet  peace  that  goodngss  bosoms  ever,    . 
As  that  the  single  want  of  light  and  noise 
(Not  being  in  danger,  as  I  trust  she  is  not)  370 


COMUS 


43 


Could  stir  the  constant  mood  of  her  calm  thoughts, 

And  put  them  into  misbecoming  plight. 

Virtue  could  see  to  do  what  Virtue  would  V  *^^ 

By  her  own  radiant  light,  though  sun  and  moon 

Were  in  the  flat  sea  sunk.     And  Wisdom's  self 

Oft  seeks  to  sweet  retired  solitude, 

Where,  with  her  best  nurse  Contemplation, 

'  She  plumes  her  feathers,  and  lets  grow  her  wings, 
That,  in  the  various  bustle  of  resort, 
Were  all  to-ruffled,0  and  sometimes  impaired. 

"  He  that  has  light  within  his  own  clear  breast 
May  sit  i'  tlie^centre, °  and  enjoy  bright  day: 
But  he  that  hides  a  dark  soul  and  foul  thought! 
Benighted  walks  under  the  mid-day  sun; 
Himself  is  his  own  dungeon.0 

Sec.  Bro.  ?Tis  most  true 

That  musing  Meditation  most  affects 
The  pensive  secrecy  of  desert  cell, 
Far  from  the  cheerful  haunt  of  men  and  herds, 
And  sits  as  safe  as  in  a  senate-house; 
For  who  would  rob  a  hermit  of  his  weeds, 
His  few  books,  or  his  beads,  or  maple  dish, 
Or  do  his  grey  hairs  any  violence? 
But  Beauty,  like  the  fair  Hesperian  tree0 
Laden  with  blooming  gold,  had  need  the  guard 


375 


380 


385 


390 


44  MILTON'S    COMUS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 


Of  dragon-watch  with  unenchanted0  eye         i» 

To  sa.ve  her  blossoms,  and  deTend  her  fruit, 

From  the  rash  hand  of  bold  Incontinence. 

You  may  as  well  spread  out  the  unsunned0  heaps 

Of  miser's  treasure  by  an  outlaw's  den,  .  ,   ' 

And  tell  me  it  is  safe,  as  bid  me  hope  ^          U^*1  ^4°° 

Danger  will  wink  on0  Opportunity,  %•**&  v^JU-  i^*^ 

And  let  a  single  helpless  maiden  pass 

Uninjured  in  this  wild  surrounding  waste. 

Of  night  or  loneliness  it  recks  me  not; 

I  fear  the  dread  events  that  dog  them  both,  405 

Lest  some  ill-greeting  touch  attempt  the  person 

Of  our  unowned0  sister. 

Eld.  Bro.  I  do  not,  brother, 

Infer0  as  if  I  thought  my  sister's  state 
Secure  without  all  doubt  or  controversy; 
Yet,  where  an  equal  poise  of  hope  and  fear  410 

Does  arbitrate  the  event,  my  nature  is 
That  I  incline  to  hope  rather  than  fear, 
And  gladly  banish  squint  suspicion.0 
My  sister  is  not  so  defenceless  left 
As  you  imagine;  she  has  a  hidden  strength,  415 

Which  you  remember  not. 

Sec.  Bro.  What  hidden  strength, 

Unless  the  strength  of  Heaven,  if  you  mean  that? 


COMUS  45 

Eld.    Bro.     I   mean   that   too,    but  yet   a  hidden 

strength, 
Which,    if    Heaven    gave    it,    may   be    termed    her 

own. 

'Tis  chastity,  my  brother,  chastity :  420 

She  that  has  that  is  clad  in  complete  steel, 
And,  like  a  quivered  nymph  with  arrows  keen, 
May  trace0  huge  forests,  and  unharboured0  heaths, 
Infamous  hills,  and  sandy  perilous  wilds ; 
Where,  through  the  sacred  rays  of  chastity,  425 

No  savage  fierce,  bandite,  or  mountaineer, 
Will  dare  to  soil  her  virgin  purity. 
Yea,  there  where  very  desolation  dwells, 
By  grots  and  caverns  shagged  with  horrid  shades, 
She  may  pass  on  with  unblenched  majesty  430 

Be  it  not  done  in  pride,  or  in  presumption. 
Some  say  no  evil  thing0  that  walks  by  night, 
In  fog  or  fire,  by  lake  or  moorish  fen, 
Blue  meagre  hag,  or  stubborn  unlaid  ghost,0 
That  breaks  his  magic  chains  at  curfew  time,  435 

'  No  goblin  or  swart0  faery  of  the  mine, 
"Hath  hurtful  power  o'er  true  virginity. 
Do  ye  believe  me  yet,  or  shall  I  call 
Antiquity0  from  the  old  schools  of  Greece 
To  testify  the  arms  of  chastity?  440 


46  MILTON^S    COMUS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

Hence  had  the  huntress  Dian  her  dread  bow,      , 
Fair  silver-shafted  queen  for  ever  chaste, 
Wherewith  she  tamed  the  brinded  lioness  v 
And  spotted  mountain-pard,  but  set  at  nought 
The  frivolous  bolt  of  Cupid;  gods  and  men  445 

Feared  her  stern  frown,  and  she  was  queen  o'  the 

woods. 

What  was  that  snaky-headed  Gorgon  shield 
That  wise  Minerva  wore,  unconquered  virgin, 
Wherewith  she  freezed  her  foes  to  congealed  stone, 
But  rigid  looks  of  chaste  austerity,  450 

And  noble  grace  that  dashed  brute  violence 
With  sudden  adoration  and  blank  awe? 
So  dear0  to  Heaven  is  saintly  chastity 
That,  when  a  soul  is  found  sincerely  so, 
A  thousand  liveried  angels  lackey  her,  455 

Driving  far  off  each  thing  of  sin  and  guilt, 
And  in  clear  dream  and  solemn  vision 
Tell  her  of  things  that  no  gross  ear  can  hear; 
Till  oft0  converse  with  heavenly  habitants 
Begin  to  cast  a  beam  on  the  outward  shape,  460 

The  unpolluted  temple  of  the  mind, 
And  turns  it  by  "3egrees  to  the  souPs  essence, 
Till  all  be  made  immortal.     But,  when  lust, 
By  unchaste  looks,  loose  gestures,  and  foul  talk, 


COMUS  47 

But  most  by  lewd  and  lavish  act  of  sin,  465 

Lets  in  defilement  to  the  inward  parts, 

The  soul  grows  clotted  by  contagion, 

Imbodies,  and  imbrutes,  till  she  quite  lose 

The  divine  property  of  her  first  being. 

Such  are  those  thick  and  gloomy  shadows  damp       470 

Oft  seen  in  charnel-vaults  and  sepulchres, 

Lingering  and  sitting  by  a  new-made  grave, 

As  loth  to  leave  the  body  that  it  loved, 

And  linked  itself  by  carnal  sensualty 

To  a  degenerate  and  degraded  state.       M  475 

Sec.  Bro.    How  charming0  is  divine  Philosophy ! 
Not  harsh  and  crabbed,  as  dull  fools  suppose, 
But  musical  as  is  Apollo's  lute, 
And  a  perpetual  feast  of  nectared  sweets, 
Where  no  crude  surfeit  reigns. 

Eld.  Bro.  List!  list!  I  hear  480 

Some  far-off  hallo  break  the  silent  air. 

Sec.  Bro.    Methought  so  too;  what  should  it  be? 

Eld.  Bro.  For  certain, 

Either  some  one,  like  us,  night-foundered  here, 
Or  else  some  neighbour  woodman,  or,  at  worst, 
Some  roving  robber  calling  to  his  fellows.  485 

Sec.  Bro.    Heaven  keep  my  sister!     Again,  again, 
and  near! 


48  MILTON'S    COMUS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

Best  draw,  and  stand  upon  our  guard. 

Eld.  Bro.  I'll  hallo. 

If  he  be  friendly,  he  conies  well :  if  not, 
Defence  is  a  good  cause,  and  Heaven  be  for  us ! 

The  ATTENDANT  SPIRIT,  habited  like  a  shepherd 

That  hallo  I  should  know.     What  are  you?     Speak. 
Come  not  too  near;  you  fall  on  iron  stakes  else.0     491 

Spir.    What  voice  is  that?  my  young  Lord?  speak 
again. 

Sec.  Bro.   0  brother,  'tis  my  father's  Shepherd,  sure. 

Eld.  Bro.    Thyrsis !  °  whose  artful  strains  have  oft 

delayed 

The  huddling  brook  to  hear  his  madrigal,0  495 

And  sweetened  every  musk-rose  of  the  dale. 
How  earnest  thou  here,  good  swain?     Hath  any  ram 
Slipped  from  the  fold,  or  young  kid  lost  his  dam, 
Or  straggling  wether  the  pent  flock  forsook? 
How  couldst  thou  find  this  dark  sequestered  nook?  500 

Spir.    0  my  loved  master's  heir,  and  his  next  joy, 
I  came  not  here  on  such  a  trivial  toy 
As  a  strayed  ewe,  or  to  pursue  the  stealth 
Of  pilfering  wolf;  not  all  the  fleecy  wealth 
That  doth  enrich  these  downs  is  worth  a  thought     505 
To  this  my  errand,  and  the  care  it  brought. 


COMUS  49 

But,  oh!  my  virgin  Lady,  where  is  she? 
How  chance  she  is  not  in  your  company? 

Eld.  Bro.    To  tell   thee   sadly,  Shepherd,  without 

blame 
Or  our  neglect,  we  lost  her  as  we  came.  510 

Spir.    Ay  me  unhappy!  then  my  fears  are  true. 

Eld.  Bro.  What  fears,  good  Thyrsis?  Prithee  briefly 
shew. 

Spir.    I'll  tell  ye.     'Tis  not  vain  or  fabulous 
(Though  so  esteemed  by  shallow  ignorance) 
What  the  sage  poets,0  taught  by  the  heavenly  Muse, 
Storied  of  old  in  high  immortal  verse  516 

Of  dire  Chimeras  and  enchanted  isles, 
And  rifted  rocks  whose  entrance  leads  to  Hell; 
For  such  there  be,  but  unbelief  is  blind. 

Within  the  navel0  of  this  hideous  wood,  520 

Immured  in  cypress  shades,  a  sorcerer  dwells, 
Of  Bacchus  and  of  Circe  born,  great  Comus, 
Deep  skilled  in  all  his  mother's  witcheries, 
And  here  to  every  thirsty  wanderer 
By  sly  enticement  gives  his  baneful  cup,  525 

With  many  murmurs0  mixed,  whose  pleasing  poison 
The  visage  quite  transforms  of  him  that  drinks, 
And  the  inglorious  likeness  of  a  beast 
Fixes  instead,  unmoulding0  reason's  mintage 


50  MILTON'S    COMUS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

Charactered  in  the  face.     This  have  I  learnt  530 

Tending  my  flocks  hard  by  i?  the  hilly  crofts0 

That    brow    this    bottom    glade;    whence    night    by 

night 

He  and  his  monstrous  £out  are  heard  to  howl 
Like  stabled  wolves,0  or  tigers  at  their  prey, 
Doing  abhorred  rites  to  Hecate  535 

In  their  obscured  haunts  of  inmost  bowers. 
Yet  have  they  many  baits  and  guileful  spells 
To  inveigle  and  invite  the  unwary  sense 
Of  them  that  pass  unweeting  by  the  way. 
This  evening  late,  by  then  the  chewing  flocks  540 

Had  ta'en  their  sapper  on  the  savoury  herb 
Of  knot-grass  dew -besprent,  and  were  in  fold, 
I  sat  me_down  to  watch  upon  a  bank 
With  ivy  canopied,  and  interwove 
With  flaunting  honeysuckle,  and  began,  545 

Wrapt  in  a  pleasing  fit  of  melancholy, 
To  meditate  my  rural  minstrelsy, 
Till  fancy  had  her  fill.     But  ere  a  close 
The  wonted  roar  was  up  amidst  the  woods, 
And  filled  the  air  with  barbarous  dissonance;  550 

At  which  I  ceased,  and  listened  them  awhile, 
Till  an  unusual  stop0  of  sudden  silence 
Gave  respite  to  the  drowsy-flighted0  steeds 


COMUS  51 

That  draw  the  litter  of  close-curtained  Sleep. 

At  last0  a  soft  and  solemn-breathing  sound  555 

Rose  like  a  steam  of  rich  distilled  perfumes, 

And  stole  upon  the  air,  that  even  Silence 

Was  took  ere  she  was  ware,  and  wished  she  might 

Deny  her  nature,  and  be  never  more, 

Still  to  be  so  displaced.     I  was  all  ear,  560 

And  took  in  strains  that  might  create  a  soul 

Under  the  ribs  of  Death.     But,  oh !  ere  long 

Too  well  I  did  perceive  it  was  the  voice 

Of  my  most  honoured  Lady,  your  dear  sister. 

Amazed  I  stood,  harrowed  with  grief  and  fear;         565 

And  '0  poor  hapless  nightingale,'  thought  I, 

'How  sweet  thou  sing'st,  how  near  the  deadly  snare! ' 

Then  down  the  lawns  I  ran  with  headlong  haste, 

Through  paths  and  turnings  often  trod  by  day, 

Till,  guided  by  mine  ear,  I  found  the  place  570 

Where  that  damned  wizard,  hid  in  sly  disguise 

(For  so  by  certain  signs  I  knew),  had  met 

Already,  ere  my  best  speed  could  prevent, 

The  aidless  innocent  lady,  his  wished  prey; 

Who  gently  asked  if  he  had  seen  such  two,  575 

Supposing  him  some  neighbour  villager. 

Longer  I  durst  not  stay,  but  soon  I  guessed 

Ye  were  the  two  she  meant;  with  that  I  sprung 


52  MILTON'S    COMUS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

Into  swift  flight,  till  I  had  found  you  here; 
But  further  know  I  not. 

Sec.  Bro.  0  night  and  shades,  580 

How  are  ye  joined  with  hell  in  triple  knot 
Against  the  unarmed  weakness  of  one  virgin, 
Alone  and  helpless !     Is  this  the  confidence 
You  gave  me,  brother? 

Eld.  Bro.  Yes,  and  keep  it  still; 

Lean  on  it  safely;  not  a  period  585 

Shall  be  unsaid  for  me.     Against  the  threats 
Of  malice  or  of  sorcery,  or  that  power 
Which  erring  men  call  Chance,  this  I  hold  firm : 
Virtue  may  be  assailed,  but  never  hurt, 
Surprised  by  unjust  force,  but  not  enthralled;          590 
Yea,  even  that  which  Mischief  meant  most  harm 
Shall  in  the  happy  trial  prove  most  glory. 
But  evil  on  itself  shall  back  recoil, 
And  mix  no  more  with  goodness,  when  at  last, 
Gathered  like  scum,  and  settled  to  itself,  595 

It  shall  be  in  eternal  restless  change 
Self -fed  and  self-consumed.     If  this  fail, 
The  pillared  firmament  is  rottenness, 
And  earth's  base  built  on  stubble.     But  come,  let's  on  ! 
Against  the  opposing  will  and  arm  of  Heaven          600 
May  never  this  just  sword  be  lifted  up; 


COMUS  53 

But,  for  that  damned  magician,  let  him  be  girt 

With  all  the  griesly  legions  that  troop 

Under  the  sooty  flag  of  Acheron,0 

Harpies0  and  Hydras,  or  all  the  monstrous  forms    605 

'Twixt  Africa  and  Ind,°  I'll  find  him  out, 

And  force  him  to  return  his  purchase  back, 

Or  drag  him  by  the  curls0  to  a  foul  death, 

Cursed  as  his  life. 

JSpir.  Alas !  good  venturous  youth, 

I  love  thy  courage  yet,  and  bold  emprise ;  610 

But  here  thy  sword  can  do  thee  little  stead. 
Far  other  arms  and  other  weapons  must 
Be  those  that  quell  the  might  of  hellish  charms. 
He  with  his  bare  wand  can  unthread  thy  joints, 
And  crumble  all  thy  sinews. 

Eld.  Bro.  Why,  prithee,  Shepherd, 

How  durst  thou  then  thyself  approach  so  near          616 
As  to  make  this  relation? 

Spir.  Care  and  utmost  shifts 

How  to  secure  the  Lady  from  surprisal 
Brought  to  my  mind  a  certain  shepherd  lad,0 
Of  small  regard  to  see  to,  yet  well  skilled  620 

'  In  every  virtuous  plant  and  healing  herb 
That  spreads  her  verdant  leaf  to  the  morning  ray. 
He  loved  me  well,  and  oft  would  beg  me  sing; 


54        MILTON'S  COMUS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

Which  when  I  did,  he  on  the  tender  grass 

Would  sit,  and  hearken  even  to  ecstasy,  625 

And  in  requital  ope  his  leathern  scrip, 

And  show  me  simples0  of  a  thousand  names, 

Telling  their  strange  and  vigorous  faculties. 

Amongst  the  rest  a  small  unsightly  root, 

But  of  divine  effect,  he  culled  me  out.  630 

The  leaf  was  darkish,  and  had  prickles  on  it, 

But  in  another  country,  as  he  said, 

Bore  a  bright  golden  flower,  but  not  in  this  soil : 

Unknown,  and  like  esteemed,  and  the  dull  swain 

Treads  on  it  daily  with  his  clouted  shoon;0  635 

And  yet  more  med'cinal  is  it  than  that  Moly° 

That  Hermes  once  to  wise  Ulysses  gave. 

He  called  it  Haeinojay,0  and  gave  it  me, 

And  bade  me  keep  it  as  of  sovran  use 

'Gainst  all  enchantments,  mildew  blast,  or  damp,    640 

Or  ghastly  Furies'  apparition. 

I  pursed  it  up,  but  little  reckoning  made, 

Till  now  that  this  extremity  compelled. 

But  now  I  find  it  true;  for  by  this  means 

I  knew  the  foul  enchanter,  though  disguised,  645 

Entered  the  very  lime-twigs0  of  his  spells, 

And  yet  came  off.     If  you  have  this  about  you 

(As  I  will  give  you  when  we  go)  you  may 


COMUS  55 

Boldly  assault  the  necromancer's  hall; 

Where  if  he  be,  with  dauntless  hardihood  650 

And  brandished  blade  rush  on  him :  break  his  glass, 

And  shed  the  luscious  liquor  on  the  ground; 

But  seize  his  wand.     Though  he  and  his  curst  crew 

Fierce  sign  of  battle  make,  and  menace  high, 

Or,  like  the  sons  of  Vulcan,  vomit  smoke,0  655 

Yet  will  they  soon  retire,  if  he  but  shrink. 

Eld.  Bro.    Thyrsis,  lead  on  apace;  I'll  follow  thee; 
And  some  good  angel  bear  a  shield  before  us !  ^ 

The  Scene  changes  to  a  stately  palace,  set  out  with  all  manner  of  deli- 
ciousness  :  soft  music,  tables  spread  with  all  dainties.  COMUS  appears 
with  his  rabble,  and  THE  LADY  set  in  an  enchanted  Chair  :  to  whom  he 
offers  his  glass,'  which  she  puts  by,  and  goes  about  to  rise 

Comus.    Nay,  Lady,  sit.     If  I  but  wave  this  wand, 
Your  nerves  are  all  chained  up  in  alabaster,  660 

And  you  a  statue,  or  as  Daphne0  was, 
Root-bound,  that  fled  Apollo. 

Lady.  Fool,  do  not  boast. 

Thou  canst  not  touch  the  freedom  of  my  mind 
With  all  thy  charms,  although  this  corporal  rind 
Thou  hast  immanacled  while  Heaven  sees  good.       665 

Comus.    Why  are  you  vexed,  Lady?   why  do  yoii 

frown? 
Here  dwell  no  frowns,  nor  anger;  from  these  gates 


56  MILTO&'S    COMUS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

Sorrow  flies  far.     See,  here  be  all  the  pleasures 

That  fancy  can  beget  on  youthful  thoughts, 

When  the  fresh  blood  grows  lively,  and  returns       670 

Brisk  as  the  April  buds  in  primrose  season. 

And  first  behold  this  cordial  julep0  here, 

That  flames  and  dances  in  his  crystal  bounds, 

With  spirits  of  balm  and  fragrant  syrups  mixed. 

Not  that  Nepenthes,0  which  the  wife  of  Thone0       675 

In  Egypt  gave  to  Jove-born  Helena 

Is  of  such  power  to  stir  up  joy  as  this, 

To  life  so  friendly,  or  so  cool  to  thirst. 

Why  should  you  be  so  cruel  to  yourself, 

And  to  those  dainty  limbs,  which  Nature  lent          680 

For  gentle  usage  and  soft  delicacy? 

But  you  invert  the  covenants  of  her  trust, 

And  harshly  deal,  like  an  ill  borrower, 

With  that  which  you  received  on  other  terms, 

Scorning  the  unexempt  condition  685 

By  which  all  mortal  frailty  must  subsist, 

Refreshment  after  toil,  ease  after  pain, 

That  have  been  tired  all  day  without  repast, 

And  timely  rest  have  wanted.     But,  fair  virgin, 

This  will  restore  all  soon. 

Lady.  'Twill  not,  false  traitor !  690 

'Twill  not  restore  the  truth  and  honesty 


COMUS  57 

That  thou  hast  banished  from  thy  tongue  with  lies. 
Was  this  the  cottage  and  the  safe  abode 
Thou  told'st  me  of?     What  grim  aspects  are  these, 
These  oughly-headed  monsters?     Mercy  guard  me!  695 
Hence  with  thy  brewed  enchantments,  foul  deceiver! 
Hast  thou  betrayed  my  credulous  innocence 
With  vizored0  falsehood  and  base  forgery? 
And  wouldst  thou  seek  again  to  trap  me  here 
With  liquorish  baits,  fit  to  ensnare  a  brute?  700 

Were  it  a  draught  for  Juno  when  she  banquets, 
I  would  not  taste  thy  treasonous  offer.     None 
But  such  as  are  good  men  can  give  good  things ; 
And  that  which  is  not  good  is  not  delicious 
To  a  well-governed  and  wise  appetite.  705 

Comus.     0   foolishness   of   men!    that   lend   their 

ears 

To  those  budge  doctors  of  the  Stoic  fur,0 
And  fetch  their  precepts  from  the  Cynic  tub,0 
Praising  the  lean  and  sallow  Abstinence! 
Wherefore  did  Nature  pour  her  bounties  forth          710 
With  such  a  full  and  unwithdrawing0  hand, 
Covering  the  earth  with  odours,  fruits,  and  flocks, 
Thronging  the  seas  with  spawn  innumerable, 

But  all  to  please  and  sate  the  curious  taste? 

^  ,  <>• 

And  set  to  work  millions  of  spinning  worms,  715 


58  MlLTON^S    COMUS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

That  in  their  green  shops  weave  the  smooth-haired 

silk, 

To  deck  her  sons ;  and,  that  no  corner  might 
Be  vacant  of  her  plenty,  in  her  own  loins 
She  hutched0   the   all-worshipped  ore   and   precious 

gems, 

To  store  her  children  with.     If  all  the  world  720 

Should,  in  a  pet  of  temperance,  feed  on  pulse,0 
Drink  the  clear  stream,  and  nothing  wear  but  frieze, 
The  All-giver  would  be   unthanked,   would   be   un- 

praised, 

Not  half  his  riches  known,  and  yet  despised; 
And  we  should  serve  him  as  a  grudging  master,        725 
As  a  penurious  niggard  of  his  wealth, 
And  live  like  Nature's  bastards,  not  her  sons, 
Who  would  be  quite  surcharged  with  her  own  weight, 
And  strangled  with  her  waste  fertility : 
The  earth  cumbered,  and  the  winged  air  darked  with 

plumes,  730 

The  herds  would  over-multitude  their  lords; 
The  sea  o'erfraught  would  swell,  and  the  unsought 

diamonds 

Would  so  emblaze  the  forehead  of  the  deep, 
And  so  bestud  with  stars,  that  they  below 
Would  grow  inured  to  light,  and  come  at  last  735 


COMUS  59 


To  gaze  upon  the  sun  with  shameless  brows. 
List,  Lady;  be  not  coy,  and  be  not  cozened 
With  that  same  vaunted  name,  Virginty. 

^Beauty  is  Nature's  coin;0  must  not  be  hoarded, 
But  must  be  current;  and  the  good  thereof  740 

Consists  in  mutual  and  partaken  bliss, 
Unsavoury  in  the  enjoyment  of  itself. 

^If  you  let  slip  time,  like  a  neglected  rose 
It  withers  on  the  stalk  with  languished  head. 
Beauty  is  Nature's  brag,  and  must  be  shown  745 

In  courts,  at  feasts,  and  high  solemnities, 
Where  most  may  wonder  at  the  workmanship. 
It  is  for  homely  features  to  keep  home; 
They  had  their  name  thence :  coarse  complexions 
And  cheeks  of  sorry  grain0  will  serve  to  ply  750 

The  sampler,0  and  to  tease  the  huswife's  wool. 
What  need  a  vermeil-tinctured  lip  for  that, 
Love-darting  eyes,  or  tresses  like  the  morn? 
There  was  another  meaning  in  these  gifts ; 
Think  what,  and  be  advised;  you  are  but  young  yet.  755 
Lady.    I  had  not  thought0  to  have  unlocked  my  lips 
In  this  unhallowed  air,  but  that  this  juggler 
Would  think  to  charm  my  judgment,  as  mine  eyes, 
Obtruding  false  rules  pranked  in  reason's  garb. 
I  hate  when  vice  can  bolt0  her  arguments  760 


~/ 


60        MILTON'S  COMUS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

And  virtue  has  no  tongue  to  check  her  pride. 

Impostor!  do  not  charge  most  innocent  Nature, 

As  if  she  would  her  children  should  be  riotous 

With  her  abundance.     She,  good  cateress, 

Means  her  provision  only  to  the  good,  765 

That  live  according  to  her  sober  laws, 

And  holy  dictate  of  spare  Temperance. 

If  every  just  man  that  now  pines  with  want 

Had  but  a  moderate  and  beseeming  share 

Of  that  which  lewdly-pampered  Luxury  770 

Now  heaps  upon  some  few  with  vast  excess, 

Nature's  full  blessings  would  be  well-dispensed 

In  superfluous  even  proportion, 

And  she  no  whit  encumbered  with  her  store; 

And  then  the  Giver  would  be  better  thanked,  775 

His  praise  due  paid:  for  swinish  gluttony 

Ne'er  looks  to  Heaven  amidst  his  gorgeous  feast, 

But  with  besotted  base  ingratitude 

Crams,  and  blasphemes  his  Feeder.     Shall  I  go  on? 

Or  have  I  said  enow?     To  him  that  dares  780 

Arm  his  profane  tongue  with  contemptuous  words 

Against  the  sun-clad  power  of  chastity 

Fain  would  I  something  say;  —  yet  to  what  end? 

Thou  hast  nor  ear,  nor  soul,  to  apprehend 

The  sublime  notion  and  high  mystery  785 


COMUS  61 

That  must  be  uttered  to  unfold  the  sage 

And  serious  doctrine  of  Virginity; 

And  thou  art  worthy  that  thou  shouldst  not  know 

More  happiness  than  this  thy  present  lot. 

Enjoy  your  dear  wit,  and  gay  rhetoric,  790 

That  hath  so  well  been  taught  her  dazzling  fence;0 

Thou  art  not  fit  to  hear  thyself  convinced. 

Yet,  should  I  try,  the  uncontrolled  worth 

Of  this  pure  cause  would  kindle  my  rapt  spirits 

To  such  a  flame  of  sacred  vehemence  795 

That  dumb  things  would  be  moved  to  sympathize, 

And  the  brute  Earth  would  lend  her  nerves,  and  shake, 

Till  all  thy  magic  structures,  reared  so  high, 

Were  shattered  into  heaps  o'er  thy  false  head. 

Comus.    She  fables  not.0     I  feel  that  I  do  fear     800 
Her  words  set  off  by  some  superior  power; 
And,  though  not  mortal,  yet  a  cold  shuddering  dew 
Dips  me  all  o'er,  as  when  the  wrath  of  Jove0 
Speaks  thunder  and  the  chains  of  Erebus0 
To  some  of  Saturn's  crew.     I  must  dissemble,          805 
And  try  her  yet  more  strongly.; — Come,  n6  more! 
This  is  mere  moral  babble,  and  direct 
Against  the  canon  laws  of  our  foundation. 
I  must  not  suffer  this;  yet  'tis  but  the  lees0 
And  settlings  of  a  melancholy  blood.  Sio 


62        MILTON'S  COMUS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

But  this  will  cure  all  straight;  one  sip  of  this 

Will  bathe  the  drooping  spirits  in  delight 

Beyond  the  bliss  of  dreams.     Be  wise,  and  taste  .  .  . 

The  BROTHERS  rush  in  with  sioords  drawn,  wrest  his  glass  out  of  his  hand, 
and  break  it  against  the  ground :  his  rout  make  sign  of  resistance, 
~but  are  all  driven  in.  The  ATTENDANT  SPIRIT  comes  in 

Spir.  What !  have  you  let  the  false  enchanter  scape? 
0  ye  mistook;  ye  should  have  snatched  his  wand,   815 
And  bound  him  fast.     Without  his  rod  reversed,0 
And  backward  mutters  of  dissevering  power, 
We  cannot  free  the  Lady  that  sits  here 
In  stony  fetters  fixed  and  motionless. 
Yet  stay:  be  not  disturbed;  now  I  bethink  me,        820 
Some  other  means  I  have  which  may  be  used, 
Which  once  of  Meliboeus0  old  I  learnt, 
The  soothest0  shepherd  that  e'er  piped  on  plains. 

There  is  a  gentle  Nymph0  not  far  from  hence, 
That  with  moist  curb  sways  the  smooth  Severn  stream : 
Sabrina  is  her  name :  a  virgin  pure ;  826 

Whilom  slie  was  the  daughter  of  Locrine, 
That  had  the  sceptre  from  his  father  Brute. 
She,  guiltless  damsel,  flying  the  mad  pursuit 
Of  her  enraged  stepdame,  Guendolen,  830 

Commended  her  fair  innocence  to  the  flood 


COMUS  63 

That  stayed  her  flight  with  his  cross-flowing  course. 

The  water-nymphs,  that  in  the  bottom  played, 

Held  up  their  pearled  wrists,  and  took  her  in, 

Bearing  her  straight  to  aged  Kerens'  hall;0  835 

Who,  piteous  of  her  woes,  reared  her  lank  head, 

And  gave  her  to  his  daughters  to  im bathe 

In  nectared  lavers  strewed  with  asphodil,0 

And  through  the  porch  and  inlet  of  each  sense 

Dropt  in  ambrosial  oils,  till  she  revived,  840 

And  underwent  a  quick  immortal  change, 

Made  Goddess  of  the  river.     Still  she  retains 

Her  maiden  gentleness,  and  oft  at  eve 

Visits  the  herds  along  the  twilight  meadows, 

Helping  all  urchin  blasts,0  and  ill-luck  signs  845 

That  the  shrewd  meddling  elf°  delights  to  make, 

Which  she  with  precious  vialed  liquors  heals: 

For  which  the  shepherds,  at  their  festivals, 

Carol  her  goodness  loud  in  rustic  lays, 

And  throw  sweet  garland  wreaths  into  her  stream  850 

Of  pansies,  pinks,  and  gaudy  daffodils. 

And,  as  the  old  swain0  said,  she  can  unlock 

The  clasping  charm,  and  thaw  the  numbing  spell, 

If  she  be  right  invoked  in  warbled  song; 

For  maidenhood  she  loves,  and  will  be  swift  855 

To  aid  a  virgin,  such  as  was  herself, 


64  MILTON'S    COMUS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

In  hard-besetting  need.     This  will  I  try, 
And  add  the  power  of  some  adjuring  verse.0 

Song 
Sabrina  fair, 

Listen  where  thou  art  sitting  860 

Under  the  glassy,  cool,  translucent  wave, 

In  twisted  braids  of  lilies  knitting 
The  loose  train  of  thy  amber-dropping0  hair; 
Listen  for  dear  honour's  sake, 
Goddesjs  of  the  silver  lake,  865 

Listen  and  save! 

Listen  and  appear  to  us,0 

In  name  of  great  Oceanus, 

By  the  earth-shaking  Neptune's  mace, 

And  Tethys'  grave  majestic  pace;  870 

By  hoary  Nereus'  wrinkled  look, 

And  the  Carpathian  wizard's  hook; 

By  scaly  Triton's  winding  shell, 

And  old  soothsaying  Glaucus'  spell; 

By  Leucothea's  lovely  hands,  875 

And  her  son  that  rules  the  strands; 

By  Thetis'  tinsel-slippered  feet, 

And  the  songs  of  Sirens  sweet; 


COMUS  65 

By  dead  Parthenope's  dear  tomb, 

And  fair  Ligea's  golden  comb,  880 

Wherewith  she  sits  on  diamond  rocks 

Sleeking  her  soft  alluring  locks ; 

By  all  the  nymphs  that  nightly  dance 

Upon  thy  streams  with  wily  glance; 

Eise,  rise,  and  heave  thy  rosy  head  885 

From  thy  coral-paven  bed, 

And  bridle  in  thy  headlong  wave, 

Till  thou  our  summons  answered  have. 

Listen  and  save ! 

SABRINA.  rises,  attended  ~by  Water-nymphs,  and  sings 

By  the  rushy-fringed  bank,  890 

Where  grows  the  willow  and  the  osier  dank, 
My  sliding  chariot  stays, 
Thick  set  with  agate,  and  the  azurn0  sheen 
Of  turkis0  blue,  and  emerald  green, 

That  in  the  channel  strays :°  895 

Whilst  from  off  the  waters  fleet 
Thus  I  set  my  printless  feet0 
O'er  the  cowslip's  velvet  head, 

That  bends  not  as  I  tread. 

Gentle  swain,  at  thy  request  900 

I  am  here! 

» 


66        MILTON'S  COMUS  AND   OTHER  POEMS 

Spir.    Goddess  dear, 
We  implore  thy  powerful  hand 
To  undo  the  charmed  band 

Of  true  virgin  here  distressed  905 

Through  the  force  and  through  the  wile 
Of  unblessed  enchanter  vile. 

Sabr.    Shepherd,  'tis  my  office  best 
To  help  ensnared  chastity. 

Brightest  Lady,  look  on  me.  9io 

Thus  I  sprinkle  on  thy  breast 
Drops  that  from  my  fountain  pure 
I  have  kept  of  precious  cure; 
Thrice  upon  thy  finger's  tip, 

Thrice  upon  thy  rubied  lip :  915 

Next  this  marbled  venomed  seat, 
Smeared  with  gums  of  glutinous  heat, 
I  touch  with  chaste  palms  moist  and  cold. 
Now  the  spell  hath  lost  his  hold; 
And  I  must  haste  ere  morning  hour  920 

To  wait  in  Amphitrite's  bower.0 

SABRINA  descends,  and  THE  LADY  rises  out  of  her  seat 

Spir.    Virgin,  daughter  of  Locrine, 
Sprung  of  old  Anchises'  line,0 
May  thy  brimmed  waves  for  this 


COMUS  67 

Their  full  tribute  never  miss  925 

From  a  thousand  petty  rills, 

That  tumble  down  the  snowy  hills: 

Summer  drouth  or  singed  air 

Never  scorch  thy  tresses0  fair, 

Nor  wet  October's  torrent  flood  930 

Thy  molten  crystal  fill  with  mud; 

May  thy  billows  roll  ashore 

The  beryl  and  the  golden  ore; 

May  thy  lofty  head0  be  crowned 

With  many  a  tower  and  terrace  round,  935 

And  here  and  there  thy  banks  upon 

With  groves  of  myrrh  and  cinnamon. 

Come,  Lady;  while  Heaven  lends- us  grace, 
Let  us  fly  this  cursed  place, 

Lest  the  sorcerer  us  entice  940 

With  some  other  new  device. 
Not  a  waste  or  needless  sound 
Till  we  come  to  holier  ground. 
I  shall  be  your  faithful  guide 
Through  this  gloomy  covert  wide;  945 

And  not  many  furlongs  thence 
Is  your  Father's  residence, 
Where  this  night  are  met  in  state 
Many  a  friend  to  gratulate 


68        MILTON'S  COMUS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

His  wished  presence,  and  beside  950 

All  the  swains  that  there  abide 

With  jigs  and  rural  dance  resort. 

We  shall  catch  them  at  their  sport, 

And  our  sudden  coming  there 

Will  double  all  their  mirth  and  cheer.  955 

Come,  let  us  haste ;  the  stars  grow  high, 

But  Night  sits  monarch  yet  in  the  mid  sky. 

The  Scene  changes,  presenting  Lud,low  Town,  and  the  President's  Castle: 
then  come  in  Country  Dancers;  after  them  the  ATTENDANT  SPIRIT,  with 
the  tioo  BROTHERS  and  THE  LADY. 

Song 

Spir.    Back,  shepherds,  back!0     Enough  your 

play 

Till  next  sun-shine  holiday.0 
Here  be,  without  duck  or  nod,0  960 

Other  trippings  to  be  trod 
Of  lighter  toes,  and  such  court  guise 
As  Mercury  did  first  devise 
With  the  mincing  Dryades 
On  the  lawns  and  on  the  leas.  965 

This  second  Song  presents  them  to  their  Father  and  Mother 

Noble  Lord  and  Lady  bright, 
I  have  brought  ye  new  delight. 


COMUS  69 

Here  behold  so  goodly  grown 

Three  fair  branches  of  your  own. 

Heaven  hath  timely  tried  their  youth,  970 

Their  faith,  their  patience,  and  their  truth, 

And  sent  them  here  through  hard  assays 

With  a  crown  of  deathless  praise, 

To  triumph  in  victorious  dance 

O'er  sensual  folly  and  intemperance.  975 

The  dances  ended,  the  SPIRIT  epiloguizes 

Spir.    To  the  ocean  now  I  fly,0 
And  those  happy  climes  that  lie 
Where'day  never  shuts  his  eye, 
Up  in  the  broad  fields  of  the  sky. 
There  I  suck  the  liquid  air,  980 

All  amidst  the  gardens0  fair 
Of  Hesperus,  and  his  daughters  three 
That  sing  about  the  golden  tree. 
Along  the  crisped  shades  and  bowers 
Revels  the  spruce  and  jocund  Spring;  985 

The  Graces  and  the  rosy -bosomed  Hours 
Thither  all  their  bounties  bring. 
There  eternal  Summer  dwells, 
And  west  winds  with  musky  wing 
About  the  cedarn0  alleys  fling  990 


70        MILTON'S  COMUS  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

Nard  and  cassia's  balmy  smells. 

Iris  there  with  humid  bow 

Waters  the  odorous  banks,  that  blow 

Flowers  of  more  mingled  hue 

Than  her  purfled  scarf  can  shew,  995 

And  drenches  with  Elysian  dew 

(List,  mortals,  if  your  ears  be  true) 

Beds  of  hyacinth0  and  roses, 

Where  young  Adonis  oft  reposes, 

Waxing  well  of  his  deep  wound,  1000 

In  slumber  soft,  and  on  the  ground 

Sadly  sits  the  Assyrian  queen.0 

But  far  above,  in  spangled  sheen, 

Celestial  Cupid,0  her  famed  son,  advanced, 

Holds'  his  dear  Psyche,  sweet  entranced  1005 

After  her  wandering  labours  long, 

Till  free  consent  the  gods  among 

Make  her  his  eternal  bride, 

And  from  her  fair  unspotted  side0 

Two  blissful  twins0  are  to  be  born,  1010 

Youth  and  Joy;  so  Jove  hath  sworn. 

But  now  my  task  is  smoothly  done ; 
I  can  fly,  or  I  can  run 
Quickly  to  the  green  earth's  end, 


LYCIDAS  71 

Where  the  bowed  welkin  slow  doth  bend,         1015 

And  from  thence  can  soar  as  soon 

Tojbhe  corners  of  the  moon.0 

Mortals,  that  would  follow  me, 

Love  Virtue;  she  alone  is  free. 

She  can  teach  ye  how  to  climb  1020 

Higher  than  the  sphery  chime; 

Or,  if  Virtue  feeble  were,0 

Heaven  itself  would  stoop  to  her. 


LYCIDAS 


In  this  Monody  the  Author  bewails  a  learned  Friend,  unfortunately  drowned 
in  his  passage  from  Chester  on  the  Irish  Seas,  1637  ;  and,  by  occasion,  fore- 
tells the  ruin  of  our  corrupted  Clergy,  then  in  their  height. 

YET  once  more,0  0  ye  laurels,  and  once  more, 

Ye  myrtles  brown,  with  ivy  never  sere, 

I  come  to  pluck0  your  berries  harsh  and  crude, 

And  with  forced  lingers  rude 

Shatter  your  leaves  before  the  mellowing  year.  5 

Bitter  constraint  and  sad  occasion  dear 

Compels  me  to  disturb  your  season  due; 

For  Lycidas  is  dead,0  dead  ere  his  prime, 

Young  Lycidas,  and  hath  not  left  his  peer. 

Who  would  not  sing  for  Lycidas?  he  knew  10 


72  MILTON'S    COMUS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

Himself  to  sing,  and  build  the  lofty  rhyme. 
He  must  not  float  upon  his  watery  bier 
Unwept,  and  welter  to  the  parching  wind, 
Without  the  meed  of  some  melodious  tear. 

Begin,  then,0  Sisters  of  the  sacred  well0  15 

That  from  beneath  the  seat  of  Jove  doth  spring; 
Begin,  and  somewhat  loudly  sweep  the  string. 
Hence  with  denial  vain  and  coy  excuse : 
So  may  some  gentle  Muse0 

With  lucky  words  favour  my  destined  urn,  20 

And  as  he  passes  turn, 
And  bid  fair  peace  be  to  my  sable  shroud! 

For  we  were  nursed0  upon  the  self-same  hill, 
Fed  the  same  flock,  by  fountain,  shade,  and  rill ; 
Together  both,  ere  the  high  lawns  appeared  25 

Under  the  opening  eyelids  of  the  Morn, 
We  drove  a-field,  and  both  together  heard 
What  time  the  grey-fly0  winds  her  sultry  horn, 
Battening  our  flocks  with  the  fresh  dews  of  night, 
Oft  till  the  star  that  rose  at  evening  bright  30 

Toward  heaven's  descent  had  sloped   his  westering 

wheel. 

Meanwhile  the  rural  ditties  were  not  mute; 
Tempered  to  the  oaten  flute 
Rough  Satyrs0  danced,  and  Fauns  with  cloven  heel 


LYCIDAS  73 

From  the  glad  sound  would  not  be  absent  long;         35 
And  old  Damoetus  loved  to  hear  our  song. 

But,  oh !  the  heavy  change,  now  thou  art  gone, 
Now  thou  art  gone  and  never  must  return! 
Thee,  Shepherd,  thee  the  woods  and  desert  caves, 
With  wild  thyme  and  the  gadding0  vine  o'ergrown,  40 
And  all  their  echoes,  mourn. 
The  willows,  and  the  hazel  copses  green, 
Shall  now  no  more  be  seen 
Fanning  their  joyous  leaves  to  thy  soft  lays. 
As  killing  as  the  canker  to  the  rose,  45 

Or  taint-worm0  to  the  weanling  herds  that  graze, 
Or  frost  to  flowers,  that  their  gay  wardrobe  wear, 
When  first  the  white-thorn  blows; 
Such,  Lycidas,  thy  loss  to  shepherd's  ear.0 

Where  were  ye,°  Nymphs,  when  the  remorseless 

deep  50 

Closed  o'er  the  head  of  your  loved  Lycidas? 
For  neither  were  ye  playing  on  the  steep0 
Where  your  old  bards,  the  famous  Druids,  lie, 
Nor  on  the  shaggy  top  of  Mona°  high, 
Nor  yet  where  Deva°  spreads  her  wizard  stream.        55 
Ay  me!  I  fondly  dream 
"Had  ye  been  there,"  .  .  .  for  what  could  that  have 

done  ? 


74  MILTON'S    COMUS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

What  could  the  Muse0  herself  that  Orpheus  bore, 

The  Muse  herself,  for  her  enchanting  son, 

Whom  universal  nature  did  lament,  60 

When,  by  the  rout  that  made  the  hideous  roar, 

His  gory  visage  down  the  stream  was  sent, 

Down  the  swift  Hebrus  to  the  Lesbian  shore? 

Alas !  what  boots  it  with  uncessant  care 
To  tend  the  homely,  slighted,  shepherd's  trade,         65 
And  strictly  meditate  the  thankless  Muse? 
Were  it  not  better0  done,  as  others  use, 
To  sport  with  Amaryllis  in  the  shade, 
Or  with  the  tangles  of  Nesera's  hair? 
Fame  is  the  spur  that  the  clear0  spirit  doth  raise       70 
(That  last  infirmity  of  ndble  mind) 
To  scorn  delights  and  live  laborious  days ; 
But  the  fair  guerdon  when  we  hope  to  find, 
And  think  to  burst  out  into  sudden  blaze, 
Comes  the  blind  Fury0  with  the  abhorred  shears,       75 
And  slits  the  thin-spun  life.     "But  not  the  praise," 
Phoebus  replied,  and  touched  my  trembling  ears :  ° 
"  Fame  is  no  plant  that  grows  on  mortal  soil, 
Nor  in  the  glistering  foil0 

Set  off  to  the  world,  nor  in  broad  rumour  lies,  80 

But  lives0  and  spreads  aloft  by  those  pure  eyes 
And  perfect  witness  of  all-judging  Jove; 


LYCIDAS  75 

As  he  pronounces  lastly  on  each  deed, 

Of  so  muph  fame  in  heaven  expect  thy  meed." 

O  fountain  Aretjmse,0  and  thou  honoured  flood,     85 
Smooth-slm  jng  Mmcjius,  croWned  \fith  'voc^I  refeds, 
That  strain0  I  heard  was  of  a  higher  mood.' 
But  now  my  oat  proceeds, 
And  listens  to  the  Herald  of  the  Sea,0 
That  came  in  Neptune's  plea.  90 

He  asked  the  waves,  and  asked  the  felon  winds, 
What  hard  mishap  hath  doomed  this  gentle  swain? 
And  questioned  every  gust  of  rugged0  wings 
That  blows  from  off  each  beaked  promontory. 
They  knew  not  of  his  story;  95 

And  sage  Hippotades0  their  answer  brings, 
That  not  a  blast  was  from  his  dungeon  strayed: 
The  air  was  calm,  and  on  the  level  brine 
Sleek  Panope0  with  all  her  sisters  played. 
It  was  that  fatal  and  perfidious  bark,  100 

Built  in  the  eclipse,0  and  rigged  with  curses  dark, 
That  sunk  so  low  that  sacred  head  of  thine. 

Next,  Camus,0  reverend  sire,  went  footing  slow, 
His  mantle  hairy,  and  his  bonnet  sedge, 
Inwrought0  with  figures  dim,  and  on  the  edge  105 

Like  to  that  sanguine  flower  inscribed  with  woe. 
"Ah!  who  hath  reft,"  quoth  he,"  my  dearest  pledge?"  ° 


76  MILTON'S    COMUS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

Last  came/  and  last  did  go, 

The  Pilot  of  the  Galilean  Lake ; 

Two  massy  keys  he  bore  of  metals  twain  no 

(The  golden  opes,  the  iron  shuts  amain). 

He  shook  his  mitred  locks,0  and  stern  bespake:  — 

"  How  well  could  I  have  spared0  for  thee,  young  swain, 

Enow  of  such  as,  for  their  bellies'  sake, 

Creep,  and  intrude,  and  climb0  into  the  fold!  115 

Of  other  care  they  little  reckoning  make 

Than  how  to  scramble  at  the  shearers'  feast, 

And  shove  away  the  worthy  bidden  guest. 

Blind  mouths !  °  that  scarce  themselves  know  how  to 

hold 

A  sheep-hook,  or  have  learnt  aught  else  the  least    120 
That  to  the  faithful  herdman's  art  belongs! 
What  recks  it  them  ?   What  need  they  ?   They  are  sped ; 
And,  when  they  list,  their  lean  and  flashy  songs 
Grate  on  their  scrannel0  pipes  of  wretched  straw; 
The  hungry  sheep  look  up,0  and  are  not  fed,  125 

But,  swoln  with  wind  and  the  rank  mist0  they  draw, 
Hot  inwardly,  and  foul  contagion  spread; 
Besides  what  the  grim  wolf0  with  privy  paw 
Daily  devours  apace,  and  nothing  said. 
But  that  two-handed  engine0  at  the  door  130 

Stands  ready  to  smite  once,  and  smite  no  more." 


LYCIDAS  77 

Return,  Alpheus;0  the  dread  voice  is  past 
That  shrunk  thy  streams;  return,  Sicilian  Muse, 
And  call  the  vales,  and  bid  them  hither  cast 
Their  bells  and  flowerets  of  a  thousand  hues.  135 

Ye  valleys  low,  where  the  mild  whispers  use0 
Of  shades,  and  wanton  winds,  and  gushing  brooks, 
On  whose  fresh  lap  the  swart  star0  sparely  looks, 
Throw  hither  all  your  quaint  enamelled  eyes, 
That  on  the  green  turf  suck  the  honeyed  showers,    140 
And  purple  all  the  ground  with  vernal  flowers. 
Bring  the  rathe  primrose0  that  forsaken  dies, 
The  tufted  crow-toe,0  and  pale  jessamine, 
The  white  pink,  and  the  pansy  freaked  with  jet, 
The  glowing  violet,  145 

The  musk-rose,  and  the  well-attired  woodbine, 
With  cowslips  wan  that  hang  the  pensive  head, 
And  every  flower  that  sad  embroidery  wears; 
Bid  amaranthus  all  his  beauty  shed, 
And  daffodillies  fill  their  cups  with  tears,  150 

To  strew  the  laureate  hearse0  where  Lycid  lies. 
For  so,  to  interpose  a  little  ease, 
Let  our  frail  thoughts  dally  with  false  surmise.0 
Ay  me !  whilst  thee  the  shores  and  sounding  seas 
Wash  far  away,  where'er  thy  bones  are  hurled;        155 
W7hether  beyond  the  stormy  Hebrides,  ° 


78  MILTON'S    COMUS    AND    OTHER    POEMS 

Where  them  perhaps  under  the  whelming  tide 

Visit'st  the  bottom  of  the  monstrous  world; 

Or  whether  thou,  to  our  moist  vows  denied, 

Sleep'st  by  the  fable  of  Bellerus  old,  160 

Where  the  great  Vision  of  the  guarded  mount 

Looks  toward  Namancos  and  Bayona's  hold. 

Look  homeward,0  Angel,  now,  and  melt  with  ruth: 

And,  0  ye  dolphins,0  waft  the  hapless  youth. 

Weep  no  more,0  woeful  shepherds,  weep  no  more,  165 
For  Lycidas,  your  sorrow,  is  not  dead, 
Sunk  though  he  be  beneath  the  watery  floor. 
So  sinks  the  day-star  in  the  ocean  bed, 
And  yet  anon  repairs0  his  drooping  head, 
And  tricks  his  beams,  and  with  new-spangled  ore0  170 
Flames  in  the  forehead  of  the  morning  sky : 
So  Lycidas  sunk  low,  but  mounted  high, 
Through  the  dear  might  of  Him0  that  walked  the 

waves, 

Where,  other  groves  and  other  streams  along, 
With  nectar  pure  his  oozy  locks  he  laves,  175 

And  hears  the  unexpressive0  nuptial  song, 
In  the  blest  kingdoms  meek  of  joy  and  love. 
There  entertain  him  all  the  Saints  above, 
In  solemn  troops,  and  sweet  societies, 
That  sing,  and  singing  in  their  glory  move,  180 


ON    HIS    BLINDNESS  79 

And  wipe  the  tears  for  ever  from  his  eyes.0 

Now,  Lycidas,  the  shepherds  weep  no  more; 

Henceforth  thou  art  the  Genius0  of  the  shore, 

In  thy  large  recompense,  and  shalt  be  good 

To  all  that  wander  in  that  perilous  flood.  185 

Thus  sang  the  uncouth0  swain  to  the  oaks  and  rills, 
While  the  still  morn  went  out  with  sandals  grey : 
He  touched  the  tender  stops  of  various  quills, 
With  eager  thought  warbling  his  Doric  lay : 
And  now  the  sun  had  stretched  out  all  the  hills,      190 
And  now  was  dropt  into  the  western  bay. 
At  last  he  rose,  and  twitched  his  mantle  blue : 
To-morrow  to  fresh  woods,  and  pastures  new. 


ON  HIS  BLINDNESS 

WHEN  I  consider  how  my  light  is  spent 

Ere  half  my  days0  in  this  dark  world  and  wide, 
And  that  one  talent0  which  is  death  to  hide 
Lodged  with  me  useless,  though  my  soul  more  bent 

To  serve  there  with  my  Maker,  and  present  5 

My  true  account,  lest  He  returning  chide, 
"Doth  God  exact  day-labour,  light  denied?" 


80  MILTON'S    COMUS    AND    O'THER    POEMS 

I  fondly0  ask.     But  Patience,  to  prevent 
That  murmur,  soon  replies,  "  God  doth  not  need 

Either  man's  work  or  his  own  gifts.     Who  best    10 

Bear  his  mild  yoke,  they  serve  him  best.     His  state 
Is  kingly:  thousands0  at  his  bidding  speed, 

And  post  o'er  land  and  ocean  without  rest; 

They  also  serve  who  only  stand  and  wait." 


ON   HIS   DECEASED  WIFE 

METHOUGHT  I  saw  my  late  espoused  saint 
Brought  to  me  like  Alcestis0  from  the  grave, 
Whom  Jove's  great  son  to  her  glad  husband  gave, 
Kescued  from  Death  by  force,  though  pale  and  faint. 

Mine,  as  whom  washed  from  spot  of  childbed  taint    5 
Purification0  in  the  Old  Law  did  save, 
And  such  as  yet  once  more  I  trust  to  have 
Full  sight  of  her  in  Heaven  without  restraint, 

Came  vested  all  in  white,  pure  as  her  mind. 

Her  face  was  veiled;0  yet  to  my  fancied  sight        10 
Love,  sweetness,  goodness,  in  her  person  shined 
So  clear  as  in  no  face  with  more  delight. 

But,  oh!  as  to  embrace  me  she  inclined, 

I  waked,  she  fled,  and  day  brought  back  my  night. 


CHRONOLOGICAL 


1608-1639.     First  Period  :  Education  and  Early  Poems 

1608        Born  at  the  Spread  Eagle,  Bread  Street,  Cheapside, 
London,  December  9. 

Early  education  at  home. 
1620-25  At  St.  Paul's  School.     Friendship  with  Diodati. 

Paraphrase  on  Psalms  cxiv.  and  cxxxvi. 

1625  Enters  Christ  College,  Cambridge. 

1626  On  the  Death  of  a  Fair  Infant  dying  of  a  Cough. 
Elegia  Prima,  Ad  Carolum  Diodatum. 

1628  At  a  Vacation  Exercise  in  the  College. 

1629  Degree  of  Bachelor  of  Arts. 

On  the  Morning  of  Christ's  Nativity. 
Elegia  Sexta,  Ad  Carolum  Diodatum. 

1630  Upon   the    Circumcision.      The  Passion.      On    Time. 

At  a  Solemn  Music.     Song  on  May  Morning.     On 
Shakespeare. 

1631  On   the    University  Carrier.     Another  on   the   Same. 

An  Epitaph  on  the  Marchioness  of  Winchester.     On 
his  having  arrived  at  the  Age  of  Twenty-three. 

1632  Leaves  Cambridge. 

G  81 


82  CHRONOLOGICAL 

1632-38  At  Horton,  Buckinghamshire. 

1633  To  the  Nightingale.     L1  Allegro.     II  Penseroso. 

1634  Arcades.     Comus. 

1637        Death  of  his  mother.     Lycidas. 

1638-39  Journey  to  the  Continent.     Italian  Sonnets. 

Returns  to  St.  Bride's,  Fleet  Street,  London. 

Epitaphium  Damonis. 


1640-1660.    Second  Period :  Prose  Works  and  Sonnets 

1640  At  Aldersgate  Street.     Becomes  tutor  to  his  nephews, 
First  plan  of  Paradise  Lost. 

1641  First  of  a  series  of  pamphlets  on  social  and  political 

questions.     Of  Reformation   touching  Church   Dis- 
cipline in  England. 

1642  When  the  Assault  was  intended  to  the  City. 

1643  Marriage   to   Mary  Powell.     She   deserts  him  and  he 

writes  The  Doctrine  and  Discipline  of  Divorce. 
1614         To  a  Virtuous  Young  Lady.     To  the  Lady  Margaret 
Ley.     On  Education.     Judgment  of  Martin  Bucer. 
Areopagitica.     Colasterion.     Tetrachordon. 

1645  At  Barbican.     First  edition   of   his  poems.     His  wife 

returns.     On  the  Detraction  which  followed  upon  my 
writing  Certain  Treatises.     On  the  Same. 

1646  Death   of  .his  father.     On  the  New  Forcers  of  Con- 

science.    To  Mr.  H.  Lawes  on  his  Airs.     On  the  Re- 
ligious Memory  of  Mrs.  Catherine  Thomson. 

1647  At  High  Holborn,  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields. 

1648  On  the  Lord  General  Fairfax. 


CHRONOLOGICAL  83 

1649         Tenure  of  Kings  and  Magistrates. 

Becomes  Latin  Secretary  to  Cromwell. 
Eikonoklastes. 

1651  Pro  Populo  Anglicano  Defensio. 

1652  At  Petty  France,  Westminster. 

Loss  of  sight.     To  the  Lord  General  Cromwell. 
To  Sir  Henry  Vane  the  Younger. 
Death  of  his  wife. 

1653  The  Protectorate. 

1654  Defensio  Secunda. 

1655  On  the  Late  Massacre  in  Piedmont. 
On  his  Blindness.     To  Mr.  Lawrence. 
To  Cyriack  Skinner.     To  the  Same. 

1656  Marriage  to  Catherine  Woodcock. 
1658        Death  of  Catherine  Milton. 

On  his  Deceased  Wife. 
1659-60  Last  pamphlets. 
1660        The  Restoration.     Milton  in  hiding  and  in  custody. 


1660-1674.    Third  Period :  The  Great  Epics 

1660        At  High  Holborn  and  Jewin  Street. 

1663  Marriage  to  Elizabeth  Minshul. 
Friendship  of  Thomas  Ellwood. 

1664  At  Artillery  Walk,  Bunhill-fields. 

1665  Paradise  Lost  completed. 
1667         Paradise  Lost  published. 

1671        Paradise  Eegained  and  Samson  Agonistes  published. 
1674        Death. 


THE   CAMBRIDGE   MSS. 


THE  most  interesting  of  the  personal  relics  of 
Milton  is  the  collection  of  -  Mss.  now  in  possession 
of  the  Library  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge. 

From  the  last  years  of  Milton's  student  life  at  Cam- 
bridge he  kept  a  note-book  or  folio  sheets  in  which  he 
kept  first  drafts  of  his  English  pieces  or  copies  of 
them.  These  drafts,  or  emendations  of  them,  and 
others  of  his  Latin  pieces  were  the  basis  of  the  first 
edition  of  his  poems  "printed  by  his  true  copies." 
The  original  Mss.  remained  in  Milton's  possession 
until  1658.  The  latest  work  is  not  in  his  own  hand 
but  in  that  of  an  amanuensis  who  assisted  him  during 
his  blindness.  These  and  other  Mss.  after  his  death 
in  1674  descended  to  his  wife,  but  became  dispersed 
about  the  time  of  her  return  to  her  native  place  in 
Cheshire.  A  portion  of  these  Mss.  came  into  the 
possession  of  Sir  Henry  Newton  Puckering. 


THE    CAMBRIDGE    MSS.  85 

"It  is  just  possible,"  says  Masson,  "that  he  may 
have  known  Milton, "  as  his  uncle  and  aunt  were  neigh- 
bors of  Milton  in  Aldersgate  Street.  He  was  edu- 
cated at  Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  and  was  a  lover 
of  books.  At  the  age  of  eighty  he  returned  to  Trinity, 
had  rooms  assigned,  and  spent  some  time  there.  At 
his  death  in  1700  he  left  his  library  of  four  thousand 
volumes  to  his  old  college.  In  this  collection  were 
many  Mss.  of  Milton's  poems.  They  were  neglected 
for  a  long  time,  until  Charles  Mason,  a  Fellow  of  the 
College,  sorted  and  arranged  them.  In  1736  Thomas 
Clarke,  another  Fellow  of  the  College,  had  them  hand- 
somely bound  in  morocco;  making  a  volume  of  fifty- 
four  pages,  folio  size.  On  the  inside  of  one  of  the 
covers  was  the  following  inscription :  "  Membra  haec 
eruditissimi  et  poene  divini  Poetae,  olim  misere  dis- 
jecta et  passim  sparsa,  postea  vero  fortuito  inventa, 
et  in  unum  denuo  collecta  a  Carlo  Mason,  ejusdem 
Collegii  socio,  et  inter  Miscellanea  reposita,  deinceps 
ea  qua  decuit  religione  servari  voluit  Thomas  Clarke, 
nuperrime  hujusce  Collegii,  mine  vero  Medii  Templi 
Londini,  Socius,  1736."  ("These  relics  of  a  most 
learned  and  almost  divine  poet,  formerly  miserably 
separated  and  scattered,  but  afterwards  by  chance 
found,  and  lately  arranged  by  Charles  Mason,  Fellow 


86  THE    CAMBRIDGE    MSS. 

of  the  same  College,  and  placed  among  the  Miscel- 
lanies, are  at  last  to  be  preserved  with  becoming  piety 
by  the  desire  of  Thomas  Clarke,  very  recently  of  this 
College,  now  of  the  Middle  Temple,  London,  1736.") 
This  sacred  volume  is  shown  to  visitors  at  Trinity 
College  Library  in  a  glass  case.  It  cannot  be  removed 
from  the  case  for  examination  except  by  permission 
of  the  Master  and  Fellows,  and  in  presence  of  one  of 
the  Fellows. 


NOTES 


LITTLE  is  known  of  Milton's  remote  genealogy  beyond  the 
fact  that  Mylton,  or  Milton,  was  a  distinct  surname  in  the  four- 
teenth century.  In  the  reign  of  Elizabeth  there  were  various 
branches  of  this  family  in  Oxfordshire  and  adjoining  counties. 
It  was  from  the  Oxfordshire  Mil  tons,  of  the  village  of  Great 
Milton  in  the  Hundred  of  Thame,  eight  miles  from  Oxford, 
that  the  poet  derived  his  pedigree.  His  grandfather,  Richard 
Milton,  was  a  substantial  yeoman  of  Stanton  St.  John,  about 
five  miles  from  Oxford,  within  the  forests  of  Shotover,  of  which 
he  was  under-ranger.  He  was  a  firm  Catholic,  although  it  is 
said  he  sent  his  son  John  to  Christ  Church,  Oxford.  John 
had  strong  tendencies  toward  the  Established  Church,  and,  as 
Aubrey  says,  "because  he  was  found  reading  a  Bible  in  English 
in  his  room,"  he  was  disinherited  by  his  father.  He  then  went 
up  to  London,  where  by  the  assistance  of  friends  he  established 
himself  in  the  business  of  a  scrivener,  attorney,  and  law  sta- 
tioner, whose  chief  business  was  the  execution  of  deeds,  leases, 
wills,  etc. 

His  shop  was  in  Bread  Street,  Cheapside,  and  bore  the  sign 
of  the  Spread  Eagle,  which  was  either  the  family  crest  or  the 
insignia  of  the  Scriveners  Company.  Being  a  man  of  industry 

87 


88  NOTES 

and  integrity  in  the  conduct  of  his  affairs,  he  was  soon  in  the 
way  of  substantial,  even  of  a  plentiful  fortune.  He  became 
possessor  of  the  Spread  Eagle,  and,  according  to  Aubrey,  "of 
another  house  in  that  street,  called  the  Rose,  and  other  houses 
in  other  places."  In  1600,  when  he  was  about  thirty-seven 
years  of  age,  he  married  Sarah  Jeffrey,  a  woman  who  proved  to 
be  in  every  way  worthy  of  her  husband.  Milton  speaks  of  her 
as  u  a  most  excellent  mother,  and  particularly  known  for  her 
charities  in  the  neighborhood."  They  lived  over  the  shop,  and 
there  six  children  were  born  to  them,  of  whom  only  three  lived 
beyond  infancy,  — Anne,  John,  and  Christopher.  The  poet  was 
the  third  child.  According  to  the  Register  of  the  parish  of 
Allhallows,  "The  20th  daye  of  December  1608  was  baptized 
John,  the  Sonne  of  John  Mylton  Scrivenor."  The  young  Milton 
was  educated  at  home  by  a  tutor,  Thomas  Young,  a  Scotchman 
and  a  Puritan,  and  was  also  a  day  scholar  at  St.  Paul's.  It  is 
in  this  home,  in  this  old  Classical  school,  and  in  the  sights  and 
sounds  of  the  London  of  Shakespeare  and  Jonson,  that  the 
young  poet  is  being  nurtured. 

It  is  an  interesting  fact  that  the  Revival  of  Learning  which 
came  into  England  from  Italy  stimulated  not  only  the  love  of 
art  and  literature  but  quickened  the  conscience  as  well.  Colet 
had  placed  over  the  master's  desk  in  St.  Paul's  school  the 
inscription:  "Hear  ye  Him."  Tyndale  affirmed,  "Ere  many 
years  I  will  cause  that  the  boy  that  driveth  the  plough  shall 
know  the  Scriptures. ' '  This  was  being  realized  in  the  century 
in  which  Milton  was  born,  for  it  has  been  called  a  century  of 
Bibles,  there  having  been  published  between  1611  and  1711  no 
less  than  five  hundred  and  twenty-five  editions.  Alluding  to 


NOTES  89 

the  influence  of  the  Bible  at  this  time  Taine  says :  '  *  Hence 
have  sprung  much  of  the  English  language,  and  half  of  the 
English  manners  ;  it  was  these  big  books  that  had  transformed 
Shakespeare's  England.  To  understand  this  great  change  (from 
4  Pagan  to  Christian  Renaissance  '),  try  to  picture  these  yeomen, 
these  shopkeepers,  who  in  the  evening  placed  this  Bible  on  their 
table,  and  bareheaded  with  veneration  heard  or  read  one  of  its 
chapters,  .  .  .  not  for  amusement  but  to  discover  in  it  their 
doom  of  life  and  death.  .  .  .  They  understand  it  with  the 
imagination  and  the  heart."  Breathing  the  atmosphere  of  a 
Puritan  home  where  life  was  deep  and  rich,  where  music  was 
heard  daily,  and  where  the  Bible  was  the  chief  textbook  in 
morals,  and  Sylvester's  translation  of  Du  Bartas'  Divine  Weekes 
and  Workes  was  the  chief  collection  of  poems,  it  is  no  wonder 
that  his  genius  was  kindled  at  the  altar  of  Hebrew  psalmody, 
and  shone  through  the  medium  of  English  undented.  "  He 
was  of  a  family  in  which  courage,  moral  nobility,  the  love  of 
art,  were  present  to  whisper  the  most  beautiful  and  eloquent 
words  about  his  cradle."  It  may  be,  as  Johnson  said,  that  the 
Paraphrases  of  the  Psalms  raise  no  great  expectations,  and  yet 
they  form  no  inconsiderable  evidence  that  a  "  mighty-mouth'd 
inventor  of  harmonies  "  was  being  trained  in  the  humble  home 
over  the  shop  in  Bread  Street. 

No  study  is  more  interesting  or  profitable  than  that  which 
reveals  the  forces  of  heredity  and  early  environment  which  have 
contributed  to  the  forming  of  the  mind  and  the  fashioning  of 
the  art  of  those  who  have  made  our  literature  fresh  and  strong. 
Especially  rewarding  is  such  study  in  the  life  and  work  of 
Chaucer,  Spenser,  Shakespeare,  and  Milton,  and  those  who 


90  NOTES 

have  given  such  lustre  to  the  literature  of  this  century,  — 
Burns,  Carlyle,  and  Scott,  Wordsworth,  Coleridge,  and  Tenny- 
son. Such  study  of  the  great  writers  would  relieve  much  of  the 
tedium  in  the  reading  at  home,  in  the  school,  and  in  the  uni- 
versity, because  it  would  reveal  the  great  truth,  "That  he  who 
would  not  be  frustrate  of  his  hope  to  write  well  hereafter  in  laud- 
able things  ought  himself  to  be  a  true  poem,  that  is,  a  composi- 
tion and  pattern  of  the  best  and  honorablest  things."  — MILTON. 

"  The  child  is  father  of  the  man."  —  WORDSWORTH. 

"  Take  warning!  he  that  will  not  sing 
While  yon  sun  prospers  in  the  blue, 
Shall  sing  for  want,  ere  leaves  are  new, 
Caught  in  the  frozen  palms  of  Spring."  —  TENNYSON. 

"  These  first  years  are  the  most  impressionable  (nothing  that 
happens  after  we  are  twelve  matters  very  much) :  they  are  also 
the  most  vivid  years  when  we  look  back,  until  at  the  end  what  lies 
between  bends  like  a  hoop,  and  the  extremes  meet."  —  BARRIE. 

Aubrey  says,  "Milton  was  a  poet  at  eleven,"  and  Milton 
himself  writes  that  under  the  guidance  of  his  tutor,  Thomas 
Young,  he  "penetrated  into  the  recesses  of  the  Muses,  saw  the 
sacred  and  green  places  on  Parnassus,  and  drank  the  Pierian 
cups."  In  1625  he  entered  Cambridge,  but  before  that  time  he 
had  studied  Greek,  Latin,  Hebrew,  French,  and  Italian.  His 
knowledge  of  Italian  was  due  to  his  friendship  with  Charles 
Diodati,  son  of  an  Italian  father  and  English  mother,  who  was 
his  schoolmate  at  St.  Paul's.  Diodati  entered  Oxford  shortly 
before  Milton  entered  Cambridge.  At  Cambridge  Milton  con- 
tinued hard  at  work,  "tied  night  and  day  to  his  books"  in 


NOTES  91 

studious  and  select  reading.  He  had  no  great  admiration  for 
the  University  which  acted  the  part  of  "Decency  and  Custom 
starving  Truth,  and  blind  Authority  beating  with  his  staff  the 
child  that  might  have  led  him."  Because  of  a  quarrel  with  his 
tutor  he  was  sent  to  London  for  a  time.  Writing  to  his  friend 
Diodati  of  this  experience  he  says  :  "If  this  be  exile  gladly  do 
I  enjoy  my  state  of  banishment."  It  was  during  this  visit  that 
his  first  English  poem  was  written,  on  the  death  of  his  niece 
who  died  during  the  Plague  in  London.  In  this  poem  we  find 
the  wholesome  beauty  of  the  Greek,  and  the  nobly  reverent 
earnestness  of  the  Hebrew,  revealed  in  the  verse  of  Spenser, 
"  whose  poems  in  these  English  ones  are  as  rarely  imitated  as 
sweetly  excelled."  Taine  says:  "  Milton  was  not  born  for  the 
drama,  but  for  the  ode."  In  this  and  the  following  poems 
"the  broad  river  of  lyric  poetry  streams  from  him,  impetuous, 
with  even  flow,  splendid  as  a  cloth  of  gold." 

In  a  pamphlet  published  in  1642,  where  Milton  defends  his 
Cambridge  career  against  the  imputations  of  those  who  had 
insinuated  that  it  was  "  inordinate  and  violent,"  we  have  some 
very  interesting  biographical  material.  He  says  that  his  early 
and  favorite  authors  were  the  elegiac  poets,  but  that  on  finding 
they  were  not  always  chaste  he  turned  to  the  "two  famous 
renowners  of  Beatrice  and  Laura  (Dante  and  Petrarch),  who 
never  write  but  honour  of  them  to  whom  they  devote  their 
verse."  Not  long  after,  he  was  "  confirmed  in  the  opinion,  that 
he  who  would  not  be  frustrate  of  his  hope  to  write  well  here- 
after in  laudable  things,  ought  himself  to  be  a  true  poem.  .  .  . 
Next,  for  hear  me  out  now,  readers,  that  I  may  tell  ye  whither 
my  younger  feet  wandered,  I  betook  me  among  those  lofty 


92  NOTES 

fables  and  romances  which  recount  in  solemn  cantos  the  deeds 
of  knighthood  founded  by  our  victorious  kings.  ...  I  read  in 
the  oath  of  every  knight,  that  he  should  defend  to  the  expense 
of  his  best  blood,  or  of  his  life,  if  it  so  befel  him,  the  honour 
and  chastity  of  virgin  or  matron.  From  whence  even  then  I 
learned  what  a  noble  virtue  chastity  ever  must  be."  The  divine 
volumes  of  Plato  taught  him  that  4 '  Love  begins  and  ends  in  the 
soul,  and  produces  those  happy  twins  of  her  divine  generation 
—  Knowledge  and  Virtue."  It  is  to  reveal  this  divine  Love, 
Knowledge  and  Virtue  that  the  college  poems  were  written. 

1630-1645 

AT  A  SOLEMN  Music 
(Three  drafts  in  Milton's  own  hand  in  the  Cambridge  Mss.) 

Milton  was  not  long  absent  from  the  University.  On  his 
return  another  tutor  was  assigned  him,  and  "pervaded  with 
pleasure  "  he  continued  his  work. 

The  title  of  his  poem  might  well  be  At  a  Symphony.  Milton 
was  nurtured  in  an  atmosphere  of  song.  His  father  was  a 
musician  and  composer  of  some  reputation.  His  compositions 
have  found  a  place  in  collections  of  the  best  music.  He  com- 
posed the  tunes  of  York  and  Norwich  so  universal  now.  He 
contributed  to  a  volume  of  Madrigals  known  as  The  Triumphes 
of  Oriana,  sung  before  Queen  Elizabeth  ;  and  his  music  appears 

in  many  other  collections. 

"  Thyself 

Art  skilled  to  associate  verse  with  airs 
Harmonious,  and  give  the  human  voice 


AT  A   SOLEMN  MUSIC  93 

A  thousand  modulations,  heir  by  right 

Indisputable  of  Arion's  fame. 

Now  say,  what  wonder  is  it  if  a  son 

Of  thine  delight  in  verse,  if  so  conjoined 

In  close  affinity,  we  sympathise 

In  social  arts,  and  kindred  studies  sweet." 

—  Ad  Patrem. 

In  his  Tractate  on  Education  Milton  said  of  the  interim 
between  exercise  and  meat :  u  It  may,  both  with  profit  and  de- 
light, be  taken  up  in  recreating  and  composing  their  (the  pupils) 
travailed  spirits  with  the  solemn  and  divine  harmonies  of  music, 
heard  or  learned  ;  either  while  the  skilful  organist  plies  his 
grave  and  fancied  descant  in  lofty  fugues,  or  the  whole  sym- 
phony with  artful  and  unimaginable  touches  adorn  and  grace 
the  well-studied  chords  of  some  choice  composer ;  sometimes 
the  lute  or  soft  organ-stop  waiting  on  elegant  voices,  either  to 
religious,  martial,  or  civil  ditties ;  which,  if  wise  men  and 
prophets  do  not  extremely  err,  have  a  great  power  over  disposi- 
tions and  manners  to  smooth  and  make  them  gentle." 

Masson  says  :  "  Often  must  Milton  as  a  child  have  bent  over 
his  father  while  composing,  or  listened  to  him  as  he  played. 
Not  unfrequently  of  an  evening,  if  one  or  two  of  his  father's 
musical  acquaintances  dropt  in,  there  would  be  voices  enough 
in  the  Spread  Eagle  for  a  little  household  concert.  Then  might 
the  well  printed  and  well  kept  set  of  Orianas  be  brought  out ; 
and  each  one  present  taking  a  suitable  part,  the  child  might 
hear,  and  always  with  fresh  delight,  his  father's  own  madrigal : 


'  Then  sang  those  shepherds  and  nymphs  of  Diana, 
Long  live  fair  Oriana,  long  live  fair  Oriana.' 


94  NOTES 

Nor  would  the  opening  words  of  the  27th  Psalm,  doubtless 
often  sung  in  the  family  to  York  tune,  be  without  a  deeper 
significance  :  — 

'  The  Lord  is  both  my  health  and  light ; 
Shall  men  make  me  dismayed  ? '  etc. 

Joining  with  his  young  voice  in  these  exercises  of  the  family 
the  boy  became  a  singer  as  soon  as  he  could  speak.  We  see 
him  going  to  the  organ  for  his  own  amusement,  picking  out 
little  melodies  by  the  ear,  and  stretching  his  tiny  fingers  in 
search  of  pleasing  chords." 

* '  In  the  Abbey  Church  of  Tewksbury  are  still  heard  the 
tones  of  the  very  organ  on  which  Milton  played  before  Crom- 
well at  Hampden  Court ;  and  the  picture  thus  evoked  from  the 
past  symbolizes  the  true  influence  of  poets  such  as  Dante  and 
Milton  on  the  conduct  of  a  commonwealth.'"  — ERNEST  MYERS. 

Wordsworth  in  his  sonnet  on  the  Sonnet  uses  this  expression 
referring  to  Milton  :  — 

"  In  his  hand 

The  thing  became  a  trumpet ;  whence  he  blew 
Soul-animating  strains  —  alas,  too  few." 

It  is  not  unlikely  that  Milton  had  in  mind  the  music  of 
King's  College  Chapel  to  which  Wordsworth  alludes :  — 

"List!  Olist! 

The  music  bursteth  into  second  life ; 
The  notes  luxuriate,  every  stone  is  kissed 
With  sound,  or  ghost  of  sound,  in  mazy  strife ; 
Heart-thrilling  strains,  that  cast  before  the  eye 
Of  the  devout,  a  veil  of  ecstasy." 

—  Inside  King's  College  Chapel. 


AT  A   SOLEMN  MUSIC  95 

Tennyson  on  revisiting  Cambridge  says :  — 

"  And  heard  once  more  in  College  fanes, 
The  storm  their  high-built  organs  make, 
And  thunder-music,  rolling,  shake 
The  prophets  blazon'd  on  the  panes." 

—  In  Memoriam,  LXXXVII. 

6.  concent.     Latin  concentus,  harmony. 

10.  burning.     This  was  "princely"  in  first,  and  "trifled" 
in  second  draft. 

11.  This  line  has  three  forms  :  — 

(1)  "Their  loud  immortal  trumpets  blow." 

(2)  "  Loud  symphony  of  silver  trumpets  blow." 

(3)  "  High-lifted,  loud,  and  angel-trumpets  blow." 

12.  Originally  — 

"And  Cherubim,  sweet  winged  squires." 

14.  victorious.     Originally  "  the  blooming." 

15.  holy.     Originally  "  sacred. " 

7-16.  sapphire-coloured    throne,    etc.      Cf.    Ezekiel,  i.   26 ; 
Revelation,  v.,  xi. 

After  line  16  in  the  first  draft  was  a  couplet  now  omitted :  — 

"  While  all  the  starry  rounds  and  arches  blue 
Resound  and  echo  Hallelu." 

18.  After  this  line  in  first  draft  there  were  three  lines,  now 
omitted,  in  place  of  the  seven  we  now  have :  — 

"  By  leaving  out  those  harsh  ill-sounding  jars 
Of  clamorous  sin  that  all  our  music  mars : 


96  NOTES 

And  in  our  lives  and  in  our  song 
May  keep  in  tune  with  Heaven,"  etc. 

In  the  second  draft,  the  first  two  lines  here  are  — 

"  By  leaving  out  those  harsh  chromatic  jars 
Of  sin  that  all  our  music  mars :  " 

19.  did,  originally  "  could."  This  line  reminds  us  of  the  first 
in  Paradise  Lost :  — 

"  Of  man's  first  disobedience,"  etc. 

27.  consort.     Society. 

28.  Originally  — 

"  To  live  and  sing  with  Him  in  ever-endless  light." 

1630-1632-1645 
ON  SHAKESPEARE 

This  perfect  little  poem  first  appeared  printed  anonymously 
in  the  Second  Folio  of  Shakespeare's  Works,  1632,  with  the  title, 
An  Epitaph  on  the  Admirable  Dramatick  Poet,  W.  Shakespeare. 
The  First  Folio  was  published  in  1623,  two  years  before  Milton 
entered  Cambridge,  and  we  must  believe  that  he  would  not  be 
long  without  one  of  these  in  his  possession.  How  carefully  he 
read  it,  and  how  completely  he  was  in  sympathy  with  the  mind 
of  the  great  dramatist  is  revealed  in  this  poem,  perhaps  the 
greatest  of  all  great  tributes  paid  to  this  child  of  Fancy.  Masson 
has  given  a  suggestive  hint  as  to  the  origin  of  the  poem.  He  thinks 
that  it  was  probably  written  in  Milton's  copy  of  the  First  Folio. 
In  the  original  editions  of  Milton's  poems  it  bears  the  date  1630. 


ON  SHAKESPEARE  97 

It  is  but  natural  to  compare  this  poem  with  Ben  Jonson's 
prefixed  to  the  First  Folio  :  — 

2T0  tfje  ffiemorg  of  mg  belobeti, 

THE   AUTHOR, 
MR.  WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE; 

AND 
WHAT  HE  HATH  LEFT  US. 

"  Soule  of  the  Age! 
The  applaufe!  delight!  the  wonder  of  our  Stage! 

My  Shakespeare,  rife  :  I  will  not  lodge  thee  by 
Chaucer,  or  Spenfer,  or  bid  Beaumont  lye 

A  little  further,  to  make  thee  a  roome : 
Thou  art  a  Moniment,  without  a  tombe, 

And  art  alive  ftill,  while  thy  Booke  doth  live, 
And  we  have  wits  to  read,  and  praise  to  give. 

Sweet  Swan  of  Avon!  what  a  fight  it  were 
To  fee  thee  in  our  waters  yet  appeare, 

And  make  those  flights  upon  the  bankes  of  Thames, 
That  fo  did  take  Eliza,  and  our  James! 

But  ftay,  I  fee  thee  in  the  Hemisphere 
Advanc'd,  and  made  a  conftellation  there! 

Shine  forth!  thou  Starre  of  Poets,  and  with  rage, 
Or  influence,  chide,  or  cheere  the  drooping  Stage  ; 

Which,  fince  thy  flight  fro  hence,  hath  mourn'd  like  night, 
And  defpaires  day,  but  for  thy  Volumes  light." 
It  would  be  interesting  to  know  the  occasion  of  this  poem. 
Was  it  that  about  this  time  a  monument  to  Shakespeare  was 


98  NOTES 

being  proposed  ?  The  Stratford  monument  was  erected  as 
early  as  1623,  for,  in  the  First  Folio,  we  have  the  lines  of 
Leonard  Digges :  — 

"  Shakespeare,  at  length  thy  pious  fellowes  give 
The  world  thy  Workes ;  thy  Workes,  by  which  outlive 
Thy  Tombe  thy  name  must:  when  that  stone  is  rent 
And  Time  dissolves  thy  Stratford  Moniment, 
Here  we  alive  shall  view  thee  still.    This  Book, 
When  Brass  and  Marble  fade,  shall  make  thee  look 
Fresh  to  all  Ages." 

4.   star-ypointing.     This  is  of  Milton's  coining,  as  the  prefix 
y  belongs  only  to  past  passive  participle.     Cf.  L* Allegro,  12  :  — 
"  In  heaven  yclept  Euphrosyne." 

8.  livelong.    In  the  print  of  Second  Folio  this  is  lasting.  (M.) 

9,  10.   to  the  shame  of  slow-endeavouring  art,  etc.  Does  this 
imply  that  Milton  wrought  with  slowness  ? 

Heminge  and  Condell,  the  editors  of  the  First  Folio  of  Shake- 
spsare's  works,  said:  u  His  mind  and  hand  went  together; 
and  what  he  thought  he  uttered  with  that  easiness  that  we  have 
scarce  received  from  him  a  blot  on  his  papers."  Ben  Jonson 
says  :  ' '  He  was  indeed  honest,  of  an  open  and  free  nature  ;  had 
an  excellent  phantasy,  brave  notions,  and  gentle  expressions; 
wherein  he  flowed  with  that  facility  that  sometimes  it  was 
necessary  he  should  be  stopped." 

11.  unvalued.     Invaluable. 

12.  Delphic.     Inspired. 

14.  Dost  make  us  marble,  etc.  Massonsays:  **'  Dost  turn 
us  into  marble  by  the  effort  of  thought  to  which  thou  compellest 


I?  ALLEGRO  99 

us,'  a  very  exact  description  of  Shakespeare's  effect  on  his  read- 
ers. The  sense  being  that  we,  Shakespeare's  readers,  are  the 
true  marble  of  his  tomb,  or  monument." 

1633-1645 

L' ALLEGRO 

^1 
Milton  took  his  degree  of  M.A.  in  1632  but  he  did  not  return 

to  the  city  of  his  birth.  The  sights  and  sounds  with  which  he 
was  now  to  be  conversant  were  those  of  the  beautiful  English 
Midlands.  His  father  had  retired  to  the  rural  village  of  Horton, 
seventeen  miles  from  London,  in  that  part  of  Buckinghamshire 
known  as  Chiltern  Hundreds.  u  Here,"  says  Milton,  "  I,  with 
every  advantage  of  leisure,  spent  a  complete  holiday  in  turning 
over  the  Greek  and  Latin  writers. ' ' 

The  situation  of  Horton  is  beautiful  for  prospect.  The  eye 
ranges  over  dewy  meadows,  rich  tillage  land,  and  green  pasture, 
with  abundant  beech,  elm,  poplar,  and  cedar  ;  numerous  stream- 
lets hurry  to  lose  themselves  in  the  Colne,  while  the  Thames, 
Eton,  and  Windsor  are  not  far  away.  The  beautiful  old  church 
of  the  12th  century  stands  in  the  centre  of  the  little  village,  and 
near  it  is  the  site  of  the  poet's  home. 

In  this  poetic  springtime  we  fancy  our  Scholar  Gipsy  —  such 
heart  was  in  him  —  to  be  abroad  in  the  primal  burst  of  day's 
bloom  ;  as  the  lark  sings  at  heaven's  gate,  he  wanders  wherever 
nature  leads,  drinking  in  with  pure  organic  pleasure  the  beaute- 
ous forms  and  colors  in  earth  and  sky,  while  his  ear  catches  the 
sounds  of  bellowing  kine  and  bleating  sheep,  as  the  herd  drives 
them  afield,  and  the  whistle  of  the  ploughboy  and  the  song  of  the 


100  NOTES 

milkmaid  is  in  the  air.     When  the  sun  is  shining  high  he  seeks 
some  retired  spot  where  the  laborer  leaves 

"  His  coat,  his  basket  and  his  earthen  cruise." 
And  as  the  troop  of  hunters  jovial,  talking,   saunter  by,  he 
escapes  to  yonder  lawn  where  young  and  old  keep  holiday  with 
dance  and  song  and  hoodman  blind.     Thus  through 

"  All  the  live  murmur  of  a  summer's  day  " 
he  is  gathering 

"  Spontaneous  wisdom  breathed  by  health, 

Truth  breathed  by  cheerfulness." 

Such  a  day  we  have  revealed  to  us  in  IS  Allegro,  a  day  of  joyous 
mirth. 

The  slow  and  stately  introduction,  the  rushing,  joyous  music 
of  the  body  of  the  poem,  the  vividness  of  picture,  the  playful 
humor  and  the  master  melody,  reveal  the  best  of  Shakespeare  and 
Spenser  and  yet  they  are  not  of  either  master,  but  truly  Miltonic. 

The  modern  visitor  at  Horton  feels  the  atmosphere  of  that 
olden  time. 

"  Here  cam'st  thou  in  thy  jocund  youthful  time, 
Here  was  thine  height  of  strength,  thy  golden  prime ! 
And  still  the  haunt  beloved  a  virtue  yields." 

2,  3.  Of  Cerberus  and  blackest  Midnight  born,  etc.  This  fig- 
ure is  partly  classical,  and  partly  the  creation  of  later  poets.  In 
classical  mythology  Nyx,  or  Night,  is  made  the  mother  of  Thana- 
tos,  or  Death,  Hypnos,  or  Sleep,  and  other  children.  Spenser,  in 
Tears  of  the  Muses,  included  Ignorance  among  the  children. 

" Ignorance, 
Born  in  the  bosom  of  the  black  Abysse, 


L' 'ALLEGRO  101 

And  fed  with  Furies  milk  for  sustenance 

Of  his  weake  infancie,  begot  amisse 

By  yawning  Sloth  on  his  own  mother  Night." 

In  the  old  mythology  Darkness  son  of  Chaos  is  husband  of 
Night.  In  Milton's  lurid  picture  of  Hell-Gate  and  the  region 
beyond,  Paradise  Lost,  book  ii. ,  we  have  :  — 

"  Where  eldest  Night 
And  Chaos,  ancestors  of  Nature,  hold 
Eternal  anarchy,"  etc.  —  (894-896.) 
"  behold  the  throne 

Of  Chaos,  and  his  dark  pavilion  spread 
Wide  in  the  wasteful  Deep.    With  him  enthroned 
Sat  sable-vested  Night."—  (959-962.) 

3.    Stygian.     Cf.  Paradise  Lost,  ii.  574-577  :  — 

"  Along  the  banks 

Of  four  infernal  rivers,  that  disgorge 
Into  the  burning  lake  their  baleful  streams  — 
Abhorred  Styx,  the  flood  of  deadly  hate." 

6.  jealous  wings.     "  The  watch  which  fowls  keep  when  they 
are  sitting."  — WARBURTON. 

7.  the  night-raven  sings.     The  bird  of  ill-omen.    Cf  Mac- 
beth, i.  5. 

"  The  raven  himself  is  hoarse 
That  croaks  the  fatal  entrance  of  Duncan 
Under  my  battlements." 

9.   As  ragged  as  thy  locks.     The  term  ragged  applied  to 
rocks  is  common  in  Shakespeare  :  — 

"  ragged  prison  walls."  —  Richard  II.,  v.  5. 
"on  the  ragged  stones  break  forth." —  Titus  Andronicus,  v.  3. 


102  NOTES 

10.  dark  Cimmerian  desert.  In  the  Odyssey,  xi.  14,  the 
Cimmerians  are  dwellers  "beyond  the  ocean"  in  perpetual 
darkness :  — 

"  There  lies  the  land,  and  there  the  people  dwell 
Of  the  Cimmerians,  in  eternal  cloud 
And  darkness." 

12.   yclept.     The  old  past  participle  of  verb  clepen,  to  call. 

"  They  clepe  us  drunkards."  —  Hamlet,  i.  4. 
Euphrosyne.    Mirth,  one  of  the  Graces. 

14-23.  Whom  lovely  Venus,  etc.  Milton  creates  these  fig- 
ures. In  the  old  mythology  Euphrosyne  is  daughter  of  Zeus. 

22.   fresh-blown  roses,  etc. 

"  Morning  roses  newly  washed  with  dew." 

—  Taming  of  the  Shrew,  ii.  1. 
24.    debonair.     De  bon  air. 

25-32.  Haste  thee,  Nymph,  etc.  An  allusion  to  the  merry- 
making of  Elizabethan  England.  Cf.  Ben  Jonson's  masque, 
Pan^s  Anniversary :  — 

Nym.   "  Thus,  thus  begin  the  yearly  rites 

Are  due  to  Pan  on  these  bright  nights ; 
His  morn  now  riseth  and  invites 
To  sports,  to  dances,  and  delights : 
All  envious  and  profane,  away, 
This  is  the  shepherds'  holyday." 

27.    Quips  and  Cranks.     Smart  and  odd  sayings. 
33,  34.    Come,  and  trip  it,  etc. 


L'ALLEGRO  103 

"  Before  you  can  say  4  Come  '  and  '  Go,' 
And  breathe  twice,  and  say  '  so,  so,' 
Each  one  tripping  on  his  toe 
Will  be  here  with  mop  and  mow."  —  Tempest,  i.  1. 

40.  unreproved.     Not  to  be  found  fault  with,  innocent. 

41.  To  hear  the  lark,  etc.     Compare  this  and  the  following 
lines  in  respect  of  direct  and  musical  description  with  Tenny- 
son's Ode  to  Memory :  — 

"  The  seven  elms,  the  poplars  four, 
That  stand  beside  my  father's  door,"  etc. 

Cf .  Cymleline,  ii.  2  :  — 

"  Hark,  hark  !  the  lark  at  Heaven's  gate  sings, 

And  Phoebus  'gins  arise, 
His  steed  to  water  at  those  springs 

On  chaliced  flowers  that  lies ; 
And  winking  Mary-buds  begin 

To  ope  their  golden  eyes." 

44.  dappled  dawn. 

"  and  look  the  gentle  day, 
Before  the  wheels  of  Phosbus  round  about 
Dapples  the  drowsy  east  with  spots  of  gray." 

— Much  Ado  About  Nothing,  v.  3. 
59.  eastern  gate. 

"  Even  till  the  Eastern  gate,  all  fiery-red." 

—  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  iii.  2. 

62.  dight.     Set  in  order,  arrayed. 

67.  tells  his  tale.     Warton  suggests  that  this  means  "  makes 
his  reckoning,"  counts  his  sheep,  rather  than  the  commonly 


104  NOTES 

understood,  tells  his  story.     This  seems  plausible  from  the  fact 
that  the  morning  was  not  the  time  for  story-telling. 

69.  Straight.    At  once,  suddenly.    Common  in  Shakespeare. 

"  About  your  business  straight."  —  Richard  III.,  i.  2. 
"  Straight  to  stop  the  rumour."  —  Henry  VIII.,  ii.  1. 
"  We'll  have  a  speech  straight."  —  Hamlet,  ii.  2. 

70.  landskip.      Old  form.      Cf.  Tennyson,  Merlin  and  the 
Gleam :  — 

"  The  landskip  darken'd." 

75.  daisies  pied. 

"  When  daisies  pied  and  violets  blue 
And  lady-smocks  all  silver-white,"  etc. 

Loves  Labours  Lost,  v.  2. 

77-80.  Towers  and  battlements.  While  the  descriptions  are 
not  true  to  Horton  in  every  detail  it  is  not  unnatural  that  we 
should  understand  this  to  be  an  allusion  to  Windsor  Castle. 

83-88.  Corydon  and  Thyrsis   .   .    .   Phillis  .    .    .  Thestylis. 
Familiar  names  for  shepherds. 
91.  secure.     Untroubled. 

94.  rebecks.     Stringed  instrument  like  a  fiddle. 
96.  chequered  shade. 

"  The  green  leaves  quiver  with  the  cooling  wind 
And  make  a  chequered  shadow  on  the  ground." 

—  Titus  Andronicus,  ii.  3. 
98.  sunshine  holiday. 

"  Many  years  of  sunshine  days."  —  Richard  II.,  iv.  1. 
100.  spicy,  nut-brown  ale.     Wassail  bowl  of  sweet,  warm, 
spiced  ale  with  roasted  crab-apples  in  it. 


L' ALLEGED  105 

102.  How  Faery  Mab  the  junkets  eat. 

"  She  is  the  fairy  midwife,  and  she  comes 
In  shape  no  bigger  than  an  agate-stone 
On  the  forefinger  of  an  alderman, 
Drawn  with  a  team  of  little  atomies,"  etc. 

—  Romeo  and  Juliet,  i.  4. 
"  This  is  Mab,  the  mistress  Fairy, 
That  doth  nightly  rob  the  dairy, 
She  that  pinches  country  wenches." 

—  BEN  JONSON,  The  Satyr. 
junkets.     Cream  cheese. 

103.  104.  She  .  .  .  And  he.     The  two  shepherds  who  are  tell- 
ing the  story. 

104.  Friar's  lantern.  Jack-o'-the-Lantern,  Will-o' -the- Wisp. 

105.  drudging  goblin.      Robin  Goodfellow,  a  favorite  with 
Elizabethan  story-tellers. 

The  fairy  speaking  to  Puck  says :  — 

"  Either  I  mistake  your  shape  and  making  quite, 
Or  else  you  are  that  shrewd  and  knavish  sprite 
Call'd  Robin  Goodfellow ;  are  you  not  he 
That  frights  the  maidens  of  the  villagery:  "  etc. 

—  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  ii.  1. 

110.  the  lubber  fiend.  The  fairy  in  Midsummer  Night's 
Dream,  ii.  1,  addresses  Puck  as  "  thou  lob  of  spirits." 

117.  Towered  cities  please  us  then.  The  youth  now  retires 
to  his  country  cottage  and  amuses  himself  with  stories  of  a  life 
quite  in  contrast  to  that  of  the  rustics  with  whom  he  has  been 
associating. 

120.  weeds   .    .   .    triumphs.      The  old  meaning  of  weeds, 


106  NOTES 

clothing.     Triumphs,  one  of  the  forms  of  entertainment  where 
are  tournaments,  etc. 

122.  Rain  influence.     Cf.  Ode  on  the  Nativity,  71. 

125.  let  Hymen  oft  appear.      As  in  Masques  in  honor  of 
marriage.     Cf .  Ben  Jonson's  Hymencei. 

126.  In  saffron  robe.     In  Ben  Jonson's  Hymencei  we  have  :  — 
"  Entered  Hymen  the  God  of  Marriage  in  a  saffron-coloured  robe." 

132-134.  If  Jonson's  learned  sock  be  on,  etc.  Sock  was  a 
low-heeled  shoe  worn  in  comedy. 

"  I  visit,  or  to  smile,  or  weep, 
The  winding  theatre's  majestic  sweep, 
The  grave  or  gay  colloquial  scene  recruits 
My  spirits,  spent  in  learning's  long  pursuits."  — Elegy  i. 

"  If  poets  may  be  divided  into  two  exhaustive  but  not  exclu- 
sive classes  —  the  gods  of  harmony  and  creation,  the  giants  of 
energy  and  invention  —  the  supremacy  of  Shakespeare  among 
the  gods  of  English  verse  is  not  more  unquestionable  than  the 
supremacy  of  Jonson  among  the  giants."  — A.  C.  SWINBURNE. 

136.  Lydian  airs.  Soft  and  light  as  compared  with  the 
Dorian,  which  are  more  suited  to  revealing  contemplation. 

139.    bout.     Turn. 

150.  That  Orpheus'  self,  etc.  According  to  the  myth  which 
reveals  Orpheus  as  the  master  musician  who,  on  the  death 
of  his  wife  Eurydice,  went  to  the  lower  world  to  recover 
her.  His  music  charmed  even  Pluto,  who  released  Eurydice 
on  the  condition  that  Orpheus  would  not  look  upon  her  until 
they  had  reached  the  earth.  Orpheus  turned  to  see  if  she  were 
following  him  and  she  was  lost  to  him. 


IL  PENSEROSO  107 

151,  152.    These  lines  remind  one  of  the  last  lines  of  Mar- 
lowe's The  Passionate  Shepherd  to  his  Love  :  — 
"If  these  delights  thy  mind  may  move, 
Then  live  with  me  and  be  my  love." 

1633-1645 
IL  PENSEROSO 
When  the  merry-making  was  over,  and  the  sun, 

"  which  doth  glorify 

The  orange  and  pale  violet  evening  sky," 
sank  to  rest,  and  the  '  mellow  lin-lan-lone  of  evening  bells'  ceased, 

"  No  chair  remained  before  the  door ;  the  bench 
And  threshold  steps  were  empty ;  fast  asleep 
The  laborer,  and  the  old  man  who  had  sate 
A  later  lingerer." 

The  new  day  now  begins,  the  day  which  is  characterized  by  wise 
activity,  as  the  other  had  been  by  wise  passiveness  ;  for  nature 
and  books  are  the  joys  of  the  poet,  and  by  these  a  healthy 
activity  is  secured  between  What  Does,  What  Knows,  What  Is. 
The  mood  here  is  that  of  joy  in  thoughtfulness,  when  the  world 
is  shut  out  and  the  mind  shut  in  upon  itself.  Each  experience 
here  has  its  complement  in  those  of  the  previous  poem  ;  and  as 
a  result  the  movement  is  slow  and  measured  where  the  other 
was  rapid  and  careless.  One  hardly  knows  where  to  look  for  a 
happier  union  of  natural  magic  and  moral  profundity,  of  child- 
like mirth  and  the  joy  of  mature  manhood. 

The  treatment  of  nature  in  these  poems  is  not  that  of  Chaucer 
with  its  freshness  of  the  early  world,  nor  that  of  Wordsworth 


108  NOTES 

with  its  spiritual  revelation  ;  but  it  is  pure  description  of  things 
seen  by  the  poet  in  a  special  mood. 

Mr.  Henry  Van  Dyke  says :  "  I  do  not  think  that  IS  Allegro, 
II  Penseroso,  and  Comus  have  any  lower  place  in  the  world,  or 
any  less  enduring  life,  than  Paradise  Lost.  We  have  thought 
so  much  of  Milton's  strength  and  sublimity  that  we  have  ceased 
to  recognize  what  is  also  true,  that  he,  of  all  English  poets,  is 
by  nature  the  supreme  lover  of  beauty." 

Mr.  F.  T.  Palgrave  says:  "  V Allegro  and  II  Penseroso,  the 
earliest  great  lyrics  of  the  landscape  in  our  language,  despite 
all  later  competition,  still  remain  supreme  for  range,  variety, 
lucidity,  and  melodious  charm  within  their  style." 

1-30.  Hence,  vain  deluding  Joys,  etc.  These  lines  should  be 
compared  in  detail  with  the  first  twenty-four  of  IS  Allegro. 
We  must  remember  that  these  are  complementary  moods,  but 
not  contrary,  —  not  inconsistent  with  the  nature  of  a  true  man. 
It  is  usually  assumed  that  Milton  is  the  Milton  of  II  Penseroso 
and  Paradise  Lost,  but  a  careful  study  of  the  shorter  poems 
will  reveal  how  wholesome  and  holy  was  the  nature  of  the 
young  poet.  Cf.  Masson,  Milton's  Youth. 

3.  bested.     Stand  by,  satisfy. 

"  I  never  saw  a  fellow  worse  bestead 
Or  more  afraid  to  fight."  —  Henry  VI.,  ii.  3. 

6-10.   And  fancies  fond,  etc. 

"  Confusedly  about  the  silent  bed 
Fantastick  swarms  of  dreams  were  hovered, 

Som  sacred,  som  profane,  som  false,  som  true. 


IL  PENSEROSO  109 

They  make  no  noise,  but  right  resemble  may 
Th'  unnumbered  moats  which  in  the  sun  do  play." 

—  SYLVESTER'S  Du  Bartas  (The  Vacation). 
6.    fond.     In  old  sense  of  foolish. 

10.  pensioners.  Living  upon  the  bounty  of  others,  retinue. 
Possibly  alluding  to  the  famous  body-guard  of  Elizabeth. 

I"  And  I  serve  the  Fairy  Queen, 
To  dew  her  orbs  upon  the  green. 
The  cowslips  tall  her  pensioners  be." 
—  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  ii.  1. 

12.    divinest  Melancholy.      We  must  keep  to  the  Miltonic 
idea  here :  Though tfulness. 
14.   To  hit  the  sense. 

"Delicate  odour  as  ever  hit  my  nostril."  — Pericles,  iii.  2. 

"  From  the  barge 

A  strange  invisible  perfume  hits  the  sense 
Of  the  adjacent  wharves."  —  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  ii.  2. 
18.   Prince  Memnon's  sister.     Memnon  was  the  beautiful 
prince  of  the   Ethiopians  who  came  to   help  Priam.      Milton 
makes  the  sister  as  beautiful.     Homer  alludes  to  Eurypylus  as, 

"  The  noblest 

Of  men,  in  form,  whom  I  have  ever  seen, 
Save  Memnon."  —  Odyssey,  xi. 

19-21.  that  starred  Ethiop,  etc.  Cassiope  challenged  the 
Nereids  in  a  contest  for  beauty.  They  in  anger  induced 
Poseidon  to  send  a  ravenous  monster  into  her  country.  An- 
dromeda her  daughter  was  about  to  be  sacrificed  to  the  monster 
when  she  was  rescued  by  her  lover  Perseus.  Cassiope  was 
raised  to  heaven  and  turned  into  the  constellation  Cassiopoeia. 


110  NOTES 

23-30.  bright-haired  Vesta,  etc.  Milton  here  creates  the 
genealogy  of  Melancholy  as  he  has  done  for  Mirth  in  the  pre- 
vious poem.  The  emphasis  upon  the  word  solitary  would  seem 
to  reveal  the  fact  that  Milton  desired  to  reveal  that  Melancholy 
was  the  daughter  of  Solitude  and  the  Vestal-affection  or  Do- 
mestic happiness. 

33.  grain.     Color. 

35.  stole.     Scarf. 

cypress  lawn.  In  early  editions  Milton  printed  this  with  a 
capital,  indicating  that  the  lawn  was  from  Cyprus.  In  Winter's 
Tale  Autolycus  sings  of  his  wares  :  — 

"  Lawn  as  white  as  driven  snow, 
Cyprus  black  as  e'er  was  crow." 

39.  commercing.     Communing. 

42.  Forget  thyself  to  marble.     Cf.  On  Shakespeare,  14  and 
note. 

43.  leaden.    The  star  Saturn  has  a  leaden  or  dispiriting  in- 
fluence on  shepherds,  or  sons  of  the  Muses.     Cf.  Epitaphium 
Damonis,  79,  80,  and  translation.     (M.) 

46.  Spare  Fast.     Cf.  sonnet  To  Mr.  Lawrence. 

61-54.  But,  first  and  chiefest,  etc.  Cf.  Ezekiel,  x.  Milton 
names  one  of  the  four  cherubs  of  Ezekiel's  vision,  Contempla- 
tion. By  Contemplation  one  reached  the  heights  of  vision.  (  M . ) 

55,  56.  hist  along.  . .  .  'Less  Philomel,  etc.  Telling  the  Silence 
to  continue  unless  the  Nightingale  shall  choose  to  break  it.     (M.) 
"Thou  veiled  in  opening  foliage,  lead'st  the  throng 

Of  feathered  minstrels,  Philomel !  in  song." —  Elegy  v. 
59,  60.  While  Cynthia,    etc.     While  the  moon,   entranced 


IL  PENSEROSO  111 

with  the  song,  is  seen  to  check  her  pace  over  a  particular  oak 
tree.  (M.)  Milton  has  transferred  the  idea,  "  Dragon  yoke," 
drawn  by  dragons,  from  the  old  Mythology  of  Demeter.  The 
accustomed  oak,  seems  to  imply  some  particular  oak  in  which 
the  poet  had  seen  the  moon  couched. 

61-64.  Sweet  bird,  etc.     Masson  cites  :  — 

"  And  yet,  methinks  in  a  thick  thorn  I  hear 
A  nightingale  to  warble  sweetly  clear." 

—  SYLVESTER'S  Du  Bartas  (First  Week). 

Cf.  sonnet  To  the  Nightingale,  and  note. 

73-76.  Oft,  on  a  plat  of  rising  ground,  etc.  The  figure  in  the 
first  couplet  might  have  direct  application  to  Horton,  but  that 
in  the  second  could  not ;  but  we  need  not  make  literal  identifica- 
tion of  every  allusion  in  a  poem  so  rich  in  imagination.  Masson 
says :  "  The  sound  of  the  eight  o'clock  bell  from  Christ  Church 
is  still  one  of  the  characteristics  of  Oxford,  and  is  heard  afar. ' ' 

77.  air.     Weather. 

83.  the  bellman's  drowsy  charm,  etc.  Charm,  cry.  The 
bellman  was  policeman  and  fireman  in  one,  and  at  times  shouted 
the  state  of  the  weather,  as,  "  Half-past  nine  and  a  fine  cloudy 
evening";  or  he  blessed  the  sleepers,  as  in  Herrick's  The 

Bellman :  — 

"From  noise  and  scare-fires  rest  ye  free, 
From  murder,  Benedicite  ! 
From  all  mischances  that  may  fright 
Your  pleasing  slumbers  in  the  night."     (M.) 
85,  86.  Or  let  my  lamp,  etc.     A  beautiful  figure  of  Contempla- 
tion.    Milton  believed  in  the  necessity  of  shade  in  which  to  grow 
ripe,  and  leisure  in  which  to  grow  wise.     He  writes  to  Diodati : 


112  NOTES 

u  I  am  letting  my  wings  grow,  and  preparing  to  fly,  but  my  Pega- 
sus has  not  yet  feathers  enough  to  soar  aloft  in  the  fields  of  air." 
"When  Contemplation,  like  the  night-calm  felt 
Through  earth  and  sky,  spreads  widely,  and  sends  deep 
Into  the  soul  its  tranquilizing  power." 

—  WORDSWORTH,  Prelude,  v. 

87.  outwatch  the  Bear.     Studying  until  the  stars  are  put  to 
flight. 

88.  thrice  great  Hermes.     Hermes  Trismegistus,  a  Greek  ap- 
pellation given  to  the  Egyptian  philosopher  Thot. 

88,  89.  unsphere  the  spirit  of  Plato.  Return  Plato  to  the 
earth  by  understanding  his  works. 

91,  92.  The  immortal  mind,  etc.  An  allusion  to  the  Phcedo, 
where  the  doctrine  of  immortality  is  discussed. 

93-96.  And  of  those  demons,  etc.  The  Mediseval  doctrine  of 
the  four  elements,  Earth,  Air,  Fire,  and  Water. 

97-100.  let  gorgeous  Tragedy,  etc.  With  Platonic  Philoso- 
phy and  Mediseval  Alchemy  we  have  the  great  truths  of  the 
Classic  drama. 

101,  102.  of  later  age,  etc.  Shakespeare.  Cf.  V Allegro, 
131-134. 

104-108.  Might  raise  Musaeus.  Recover  the  equally  great 
works  which  are  lost.  Cf.  L"1  Allegro,  145-150. 

109-115.  Or  call  up  him,  etc.  Chaucer,  whose  Squire's  Tale 
is  unfinished. 

"  At  Sarra,  in  the  lond  of  Tartarie, 
Ther  dwelt  a  king  that  werreied  Russie, 
Thurgh  which  ther  died  many  a  doughty  man : 
This  noble  king  was  cleped  Cambuscan." 


IL  PENSEROSO  113 

Cf.  Tennyson  :  — 

"Dan  Chaucer,  the  first  warbler,  whose  sweet  breath 

Preluded  those  melodious  bursts  that  fill 
The  spacious  times  of  great  Elizabeth 

With  sounds  that  echo  still." 

In  the  Palace  of  Art  Tennyson  has  portraits  hung  above  the 
throne  of  Contemplation  :  — 

"  For  there  was  Milton  like  a  seraph  strong, 
Beside  him  Shakespeare  bland  and  mild  ; 
And  there  the  world-worn  Dante  grasped  his  song 

And  somewhat  grimly  smiled." 

116-120.  great  bards,  etc.      Spenser  and  the  Faerie  Queene. 
"Descend,  prophetic  Spirit !  that  inspir'st 
The  human  Soul  of  universal  Earth 
Dreaming  on  things  to  come ;  and  dost  possess 
A  metropolitan  temple  in  the  hearts  of  mighty  poets." 

—  WORDSWORTH,  Excursion,  Introduction. 
122.  civil-suited.     Plainly  attired,  not  in  court  costume. 
124.  Attic  boy.      Cephalus,   who   was  in  love   with   Eos, 
Morning. 

134.  Sylvan.     Sylvanus,  god  of  the  woodlands. 

135.  monumental.     Old. 
142.  honeyed  thigh. 

"  Each  bee  with  honey  laden  to  the  thigh."  —  DRAYTON,  Oivl. 

146.  dewy-feathered.  "Feathers  steeped  in  Lethean  dew." 
(K.) 

147-150.  And  let  some  strange,  etc.  Let  some  strange 
mysterious  dream  move  to  and  fro  at  Sleep's  wings,  in  airy 
stream.  (M.) 


114  NOTES 

156-166.  To  walk,  etc.  This  should  be  read  with  At  a 
Solemn  Music.  Milton  is  in  admiration  of  the  symbols  of 
spiritual  contemplation.  Here  is  nothing  of  the  Puritan. 

158.  massy-proof.     The  idea  here  is  not  quite  clear.     It  may 
mean,  sufficient  to  sustain  the  mass  of  roof,  etc.     Cf.  Words- 
worth, Sonnets,  Inside  King's  College  Chapel. 

159.  storied.     Illustrating  Scripture  story  in  stained  glass. 
167-176.  And  may  at  last  my  weary  age,  etc. 

"  O  blest  seclusion  !  when  the  mind  admits 
The  law  of  duty ;  and  can  therefore  move 
Through  each  vicissitude  of  loss  or  gain 
Link'd  in  entire  complacence  with  her  choice ; 
When  youth's  presumptuousness  is  mellovv'd  down, 
And  manhood's  vain  anxiety  dismissed  ; 
When  wisdom  shows  her  seasonable  fruit, 
Upon  the  bows  of  sheltering  leisure  hung." 

—  WORDSWORTH,  Excursion,  iv. 

"  If  age  had  tamed  the  passions'  strife, 
And  fate  had  cut  my  ties  of  life, 
Here,  have  I  thought,  'twere  sweet  to  dwell, 
Arid  rear  again  the  chaplain's  cell, 
Like  that  same  peaceful  hermitage, 
Where  Milton  long'd  to  spend  his  age." 

—  SCOTT,  Marmion,  Introduction  to  Canto  ii. 

Mr.  F.  T.  Palgrave,  alluding  to  Keats'  poem  Fancy,  says : 
"  I  know  no  other  poem  which  so  closely  rivals  the  richness 
and  melody,  —  and  that  in  this  very  difficult  and  rarely  at- 
tempted metre,  — of  Milton's  Allegro  and  Penseroso." 


ARCADES  115 

1634-1645 

ARCADES 
(In  Milton's  own  hand  in  the  Cambridge  Mss.) 

The  history  of  the  Masque,  its  form  and  function  in  English 
literature,  is  varied  and  interesting.  The  men  we  most  natu- 
rally associate  with  the  Masque  are,  that  incomparable  Master  of 
Revels  Ben  Jonson  —  its  inventor,  Inigo  Jones  its  scene  painter, 
and  Henry  Lawes  the  composer  of  its  music.  Early  in  the  reign 
of  Elizabeth,  when  the  Miracle  Plays  and  Mysteries  were  evolv- 
ing into  the  Pageant  and  the  drama  of  Shakespeare,  there  was 
also  evolved  a  ceremonial  in  which  actors  represented  allegorical 
characters  and  accompanied  Lords  and  Ladies  on  great  occa- 
sions for  the  purpose  of  lending  interest  by  action,  dialogue, 
music,  arid  dance.  In  the  reigns  of  James  I.  and  Charles  I.  these 
entertainments  were  frequent  and  magnificently  apportioned. 
Artists,  musicians,  poets,  and  managers  were  commissioned  to 
prepare  the  pageant  for  a  marriage,  a  birthday,  a  royal  visitor, 
or  the  reception  of  distinguished  foreigners,  and  the  pastoral  or 
idyl  of  Spenser  appeared  as  a  pastoral  drama  or  masque. 
Jonson  created  no  less  than  thirty  masques  between  1600  and 
1635. 

The  Masque  has  its  own  laws  as  clearly  defined  as  those 
of  the  drama  itself.  As  in  the  Greek  drama  the  central  idea  — 
the  occasion  —  was  familiar  to  the  average  spectator,  so  here 
the  occasion  with  all  its  attendant  incidents  must  be  a  familiar 
one.  The  poetry,  music,  and  decorations  must  be  used  to  in- 
tensify this  occasion.  The  result  is,  as  Taine  says:  "A  true 
eye  feast,  like  a  procession  of  Titian." 


116  NOTES 

In  1632  Puritanism  gave  a  new  impetus  to  such  pageants  by 
the  publication  of  the  famous  Histrio-Mastix :  The  Player' s- 
Scourge,  in  which  the  stage  and  all  its  associations  were  de- 
nounced as  uthe  very  pomp  of  the  Divell."  The  result  was  a 
singular  demonstration  on  the  part  of  the  lovers  of  good  cheer, 
and  the  most  gorgeous  of  all  the  royal  masques  was  prepared 
by  the  Society  of  the  Four  Inns  of  Court,  and  presented  in  the 
Banqueting  House  at  Whitehall,  February,  1634.  The  masque 
was  entitled  The  Triumph  of  Peace.  In  this  masque,  costing 
£21,000,  Mr.  Henry  Lawes  acted  as  master  of  music.  We  have 
already  seen  that  while  Milton  was  at  Horton  he  was  studying 
music  in  London  ;  now  this  Mr.  Lawes  was  his  teacher,  and  it  is 
probable  that  Milton  took  no  little  interest  in  this  distinguished 
performance.  Soon  after  this,  another  masque,  Ccelum  Britan- 
nicum,  was  given  at  the  same  place.  Lawes  arranged  the  music, 
and  Inigo  Jones  had  charge  of  the  decorations.  In  it  two  sons 
of  the  Earl  of  Bridgewater  acted,  and  it  is  through  them  that 
Lawes  and  Milton  became  associated  in  Arcades. 

In  Spenser's  Colin  Clout's  Come  Home  Again,  we  have  the 
following :  — 

11  Ne  less  praiseworthie  are  the  sisters  three, 
The  honor  of  the  noble  familie 
Of  which  I  meanest  boast  myself  to  be 
And  most  that  unto  them  I  am  so  nie 
Phyllis.,  Charillis  and  Sweet  Amaryllis." 

These  sisters  are  the  three  married  daughters  of  Sir  John 
Spencer.  In  Elizabeth's  time  the  poet,  then  young,  had  dedi- 
cated to  each,  one  of  his  early  poems,  Muiopotmos,  Mother 
HubbarcTs  Tale,  and  The  Teares  of  the  Muses.  The  "sweet 


ARCADES  117 

Amaryllis"  was  Alice,  who  married  Ferdinando,  Lord  Strange. 
In  the  dedication  of  his  Teares  of  the  Muses  Spenser  says :  u  The 
things  that  make  ye  so  much  honoured  are  your  excellent  beauty, 
your  virtuous  behavior,  and  your  noble  match  with  the  very  pat- 
tern of  right  nobility." 

Lord  Strange  was  a  patron  of  literature  and  somewhat  of  a 
poet.  He  succeeded  to  the  earldom  of  Derby,  and  on  his  death 
in  1594  his  wife  became  known  as  Countess-Dowager  of  Derby. 
Spenser  thus  alludes  to  his  death :  — 

"  Amyntas  quite  has  gone,  and  lies  full  low, 
Having  his  Amaryllis  left  to  mone. 
Helpe,  O  ye  shepheards,  helpe  ye  all  in  this, 
Helpe  Amaryllis  this  her  losse  to  mourne ; 
Her  losse  is  yours,  your  losse  Amyntas  is, 
Amyntas,  floure  of  shepheards  pride  f orlorne : 
He  whilest  he  lived  was  the  noblest  swaine, 
That  ever  piped  on  an  oaten  quill." 

—  Colin  Clout's  Come  Home  Again. 

In  1600  she  married  Sir  Thomas  Egerton,  Lord  Keeper  of  the 
Great  Seal  to  Elizabeth.  They  purchased  the  beautiful  estate 
of  Harefield  in  Middlesex  on  the  river  Colne.  In  1602  the 
Queen  paid  them  a  visit  of  four  days,  when  masques  of  various 
kinds  were  given  in  her  honor,  and  Burbidge's  players  acted 
for  the  first  time  Shakespeare's  Othello.  Masson  says,  "  Shake- 
speare himself  probably  present  and  taking  part."  The  avenue 
of  elms  where  the  pageant  met  the  Queen  was  afterwards  known 
as  the  "  Queen's  Walk." 

In  the  reign  of  James  I.  Sir  Thomas  was  made  Lord  Chan- 
cellor, and  Lord  and  Lady  Egerton  were  even  more  closely 


118  NOTES 

identified  with  literature.  Warton  says :  * '  The  peerage  book 
of  the  Countess  is  the  poetry  of  her  times."  In  1617  his  Lord- 
ship died.  The  Countess  remained  at  Harefield  and  gave  her- 
self to  deeds  of  charity  and  hospitality.  The  Countess'  first 
husband  had  been  married  twice  prior  to  his  marriage  to  her, 
and  her  second  husband  had  been  married  once  before  ;  their 
children  had  intermarried,  and  at  the  date  of  this  masque  she 
(at  seventy)  had  numerous  children  and  grandchildren.  It  was 
they  who  planned  this  entertainment  in  memory  of  the  many 
which  the  venerable  lady  had  witnessed.  The  two  sons  of  the 
Earl  of  Bridgewater  already  mentioned  as  taking  part  in  Codum 
Britannicum,  now  the  Countess'  grandsons,  were  pupils  of 
Lawes,  and  it  was  therefore  natural  that  they  should  want  him 
to  take  charge  of  the  music  ;  it  was  also  natural  that  he  should 
ask  Milton  to  furnish  the  text,  —  speeches  and  songs  being  a 
part  of  the  extensive  pageant,  Arcades. 

4.  mistook.  Milton  is  fond  of  those  old  forms.  Cf .  Nativity, 
20  ;  Comus,  558. 

8-13.  Fame  that  .  .  .  erst,  etc.  An  allusion  to  the  tributes 
to  the  Countess  by  Spenser  and  those  who  had  written  masques 
in  her  honor. 

14-19.  Mark  what  radiant  state,  etc.  An  allusion  to  the 
actual  surroundings  of  the  Countess  in  the  masque.  (M.) 

20.  Latona.     The  mother  of  Apollo  and  Diana. 

21.  the  towered  Cybele.     Cybele,  the  wife  of  Saturn  and 
"the  mother  of  the  gods,"  wore  a  diadem  of  three  towers. 
Cf .  ^Eneid,  vi.  784-786 :  — 

44  The  Berycinthian  mother  rides  tower-crowned  through  the 


ARCADES  119 

towns  of  Phrygia,  proud  of  the  gods  that  have  sprung  from  her. ' ' 
Cf .  Faerie  Queene,  IV.  xi.  28 :  — 

"  Old  Cybele,  arrayd  with  pompous  pride, 

Wearing  a  Diademe  embattild  wide 

With  hundred  turrets,"  etc. 

23.  Juno  dares  not  give  her  odds.  Could  not  afford  to  give 
her  any  advantage  in  a  contest  for  beauty.  Masson  gives  an 
interesting  interpretation  of  this  passage.  He  says  it  should 
be  read  with  the  picture  of  the  venerable  lady  before  us  as 
she  appeared  on  that  evening  of  the  masque,  throned,  and  sur- 
rounded by  two  generations  of  her  descendants.  u  Does  it  not 
then  mean,  even  now,  the  handsomest  of  her  daughters  must  do 
her  best  to  keep  up  with  her." 

26.  gentle.     Of  gentle  blood.     Masson  assumes  that  Lawes 
took  the  part  of  Genius  of  the  Wood. 

27.  honour.     Nobility  of  birth. 

30,  31.  Divine  Alpheus,  etc.  Alpheus  was  the  name  of  a 
river  in  Arcadia  which  ran  underground  for  some  distance. 
The  legend  was  that  Alpheus,  a  young  hunter,  was  in  love  with 
a  nymph  Arethusa,  and  when  she  fled  from  him  to  Ortygia  in 
Sicily,  he  was  turned  into  a  river  and  followed  her  under  the 
sea,  rising  again  in  Ortygia  where  the  waters  blended  with  those 
of  a  fountain  called  after  her,  Arethusa.  Cf.  Lycidas,  85,  132, 
and  ^Eneid,  iii.  694-696 :  - 

"  Alpheus  the  river  of  Elis  made  himself  a  secret  passage  under 
the  sea;  and  he  now,  through  thy  mouth,  Arethusa,  blends  with 
the  waters  of  Sicily." 

33.  silver-buskined  Nymphs.      The  ladies  of   the  masque 


120  NOTES 

wearing  buskins,  as  did  Diana  and  her  nymphs.     Cf. 
i.  336,  337 :  — 

"  Tyrian  maidens  like  me  are  wont  to  carry  the  quiver  and  tie 
the  purple  buskin  high  up  the  calf." 

34.  free,     noble  or  generous. 

46.  curl.      Drayton,  in  his  Polyolbion,  alluding  to  a  grove 
says,  "Where  she  her  curled  head  unto  the  eye  may  show." 

47.  wanton  windings  wove.     Cf.  Faerie  Queene,  I.  ii.  13,  for 
alliteration  :  — 

"  Whose  bridle  rung  with  golden  bels  and  bosses  brave."     (M.) 
61.  thwarting.     Athwart  or  zigzag.     (M.) 

52.  cross  dire-looking  planet.      Alluding  to  the  malignant 
influence  of  planets.     Cf.  Hamlet,  i.  1  :  — 

"  Then  no  planets  strike,"  etc. 

53.  hurtful  worm.     Cf.  Lycidas,  46. 

57.  tasselled  horn.     Cf.  Faerie  Queene,  I.  viii.  3:  — 
"  Then  tooke  that  Squire  an  horn  of  bugle  small, 
Which  hong  adowne  his  side  in  twisted  gold 
And  tasselles  gay." 

60.  murmurs.  Charms.  Cf.  Comus,  526. 
63-73.  the  celestial  Sirens'  harmony,  etc.  Milton's  idea  of 
the  music  of  the  spheres  is  that  each  of  the  nine  spheres  is 
presided  over  by  a  Muse.  As  the  spheres  revolve,  the  Muses 
sing  in  harmony,  while  the  Fates  are  turning  the  spindle  of 
Necessity  (adamantine)  on  which  the  threads  of  human  and 
divine  lives  are  wound.  Cf.  Plato,  Republic,  x.  Chap.  14. 

70.  unsteady  Nature.     Such  Nature  seemed  until  the  law  of 
the  whole  was  understood. 


COMUS  121 

72,  73.  which  none  can  hear,  etc.     Cf.  Merchant  of  Venice, 

v.  1  :  — 

"  But  whilst  this  muddy  vesture  of  decay 
Doth  grossly  close  us  in,  we  cannot  hear  it." 

Cf .  Tennyson,  Higher  Pantheism  :  — 

"And  the  ear  of  man  cannot  hear,  and  the  eye  of  man  cannot  see ; 
But  if  we  could  see  and  hear,  this  Vision  —  were  it  not  He  ?  " 
81.  state.     Throne. 
88,  89.  shady  roof,  etc.     Cf.  Faerie  Queene,  I.  i.  7 :  — 

"  Whose  loftie  trees,  yclad  with  sommer's  pride, 
Did  spred  so  broad,  that  heaven's  light  did  hide, 
Not  perceable  with  power  of  any  starr." 

97-109.  Ladon's,  etc.  Ladon  was  a  river  in  Arcadia.  Lycceus, 
Cyllene,  and  Mcenalus,  mountains  of  Arcadia.  Syrinx,  a  nymph 
who,  being  pursued  by  Pan,  was  changed  into  a  reed  of  which 
Pan  made  his  pipe. 

Masson  thinks  the  allusion  here  is  to  the  masque  of  Ben  Jon- 
son's,  which  the  Countess  may  have  seen  many  years  before  at 
her  home,  Althorpe. 

"  And  the  dame  hath  Syrinx'  grace ; 
O  that  Pan  were  now  in  place." 

1634-1637-1645 
COMUS 

(Two  copies, one,  Lawes'  stage-copy;  and  the  other  in  Milton's  own 
hand  in  the  Cambridge  Mss.) 

Mr.  J.  R.  Green  says  :  "  The  historic  interest  of  Milton's 
Comus  lies  in  its  forming  part  of  a  protest  made  by  the  more 


122  NOTES 

cultured  Puritans  at  this  time  against  the  gloomier  bigotry 
which  persecution  was  fostering  in  the  party  at  large." 

In  respect  of  the  time,  nature  of  the  occasion,  and  the  char- 
acters involved,  Comus  and  Arcades  are  closely  connected.  Sir 
John  Egerton,  first  Earl  of  Bridgewater,  was  the  son  of  the 
Countess-Dowager's  second  husband,  Sir  Thomas  Egerton,  by  a 
previous  marriage ;  he  married  Frances,  daughter  of  the  Countess 
by  her  first  husband,  Lord  Strange.  Their  children  were  the 
two  sons  who  acted  in  the  masque  Codum  Britannicum,  and 
who  were  concerned  in  the  previous  masque  Arcades  ;  two  mar- 
ried daughters,  and  the  beautiful  Lady  Alice,  unmarried.  Sir 
John  was  appointed  Lord  President  of  the  Council  in  the  prin- 
cipality of  Wales  in  June,  1631.  The  official  seat  was  at  Ludlow 
Castle  in  Shropshire,  built  by  the  descendants  of  the  Conqueror. 
The  site  of  the  castle,  on  the  rocky  heights  above  the  green 
valley  where  two  rivers  meet,  is  beautiful  and  commands  a 
magnificent  outlook  over  the  surrounding  country.  Its  associa- 
tions are  those  of  the  old  wars  of  Welsh  and  Norman,  the  Wars 
of  the  Roses,  and  the  history  of  the  Prince  of  Wales. 

"Child  of  loud-throated  War!  the  mountain  stream 
Roars  in  thy  hearing ;  but  thy  hour  of  rest 
Is  come,  and  thou  art  silent  in  thy  age." 

The  Earl  did  not  assume  the  duties  of  office  until  1634.  The 
festivities  of  inauguration  were  enlivened  by  the  performance 
of  a  masque  in  the  great  hall  of  the  castle  by  members  of  the 
Earl's  family,  in  the  presence  of  a  distinguished  assembly  of 
guests,  on  Michaelmas  Night,  September  29. 

The  association  of  the  two  young  sons  of  the  Earl  with  Lawes 


COMUS  123 

in  the  Codum  Britannicum,  and  with  Lawes  and  Milton  in  Ar- 
cades, is  sufficient  to  account  for  their  respective  parts  in  this 
distinguished  pageant.  Lady  Alice  took  the  part  of  The  Lady, 
the  two  brothers  the  parts  of  First  and  Second  Brother  respec- 
tively, and  Lawes  himself  that  of  the  Attendant  Spirit. 

The  name  Comus  was  not  applied  to  the  masque  during  Mil- 
ton's life.  In  the  Cambridge  Ms.  it  is  —  "A  Masque  Presented 
at  Ludlow  Castle,  1634,  before  the  Earl  of  Bridge  water,  Lord 
President  of  Wales."  In  the  Bridge  water  Ms.,  which  probably 
Lawes  used  as  a  stage-copy,  the  masque  begins  with  a  song  of 
twenty  lines,  which  in  Milton's  arrangement  occupies  lines  976- 
999 ;  he  made  it  a  song  of  arrival  by  changing  To  the  Ocean 
into  From  the  heavens,  and  Where  young  Adonis  oft  reposes 
into  Where  a  cherub  soft  reposes.  It  is  evident  from  this  that 
Lawes  thought  it  would  be  more  effective  for  the  Attendant 
Spirit  to  descend  into  the  wood  with  a  song  than  with  a  speech. 
On  his  departure  he  sang  the  song  as  it  is  now  in  the  epilogue. 

We  can  never  know  whether  or  not  Milton  was  present  at 
this  splendid  performance,  but  we  know  that  if  he  were  it  was 
not  as  the  known  author  of  the  masque,  for  the  authorship  was 
a  secret  known  only  to  Lawes  and  the  Earl's  family.  But  the 
author  of  such  a  success  could  not  long  be  concealed.  Inquiries 
were  made  in  regard  to  the  production  ;  copies  of  the  songs  were 
asked  for,  and  then  of  the  entire  masque.  At  last  in  1637  Lawes 
published  it  with  this  title-page :  — 

"A  Maske  presented  at  Ludlow  Castle  1634,  on  Michaelmas 
Night,  before  the  Right  Honourable  John,  Earl  of  Bridgewater. 
Viscount  Brackley,  Lord  President  of  Wales,  and  one  of  His 
Majesties'  Most  honorable  Privy  Counsell. 


124  NOTES 

"  '  Eheu  quidvolui  misero  mihi  I  Jloribus  Austrum  Perditus."1 

"London  :  Printed  for  Humphrey  Robinson,  at  the  signe  of 
the  Three  Pidgeons  in  Paul's  Churchyard,  1637." 

Masson  thinks  that  the  Latin  motto  on  the  title-page  was  sup- 
plied by  Milton,  and  that  in  it  he  expressed  a  fear  that  he  may 
have  been  foolish  in  letting  the  masque  be  published. 

The  volume  was  dedicated  to  the  Earl's  son,  young  Viscount 
Brackley,  who  took  the  part  of  First  Brother  (cf.  p.  26).  The 
music  which  Lawes  composed  for  the  songs  in  Comus  exists  in 
the  Mss.  of  the  British  Museum,  written  in  his  own  hand,  with 
the  heading :  — 

"  Five  Songs  set  for  a  Mask  presented  at  Ludlo  Castle  be- 
fore the  Earl  of  Bridgewater,  Lord  President  of  the  Marches : 
October  1634." 

Cf.  sonnet,  To  Mr.  H.  Lawes  on  his  Airs. 

Milton  first  published  the  masque  in  the  edition  of  1645,  with 
this  title-page  :  A  Masque  of  the  Same  Author,  presented  at 
Ludlow  Castle,  1634,  before  the  Earl  of  Bridgewater,  then 
President  of  Wales :  Anno  Dom.,  1645.  Lawes'  dedication  and 
the  letter  from  Sir  Henry  Wotton  were  included  (cf.  p.  23). 

Those  who  show  "how  to  make  careful  literal  identification 
of  stories  somewhere  told  ill  and  without  art,  with  the  same 
stories  told  over  again  by  the  masters,  well  and  with  the  trans-, 
figuring  effect  of  genius,"  tell  us  that  this  most  original  poem 
of  its  kind  in  English  literature,  owes  much  to  Peele's  Old 
Wives'1  Tale,  Fletcher's  Faithful  Shepherdess,  Ben  Jonson's 
Pleasure  Eeconciled  to  Virtue,  and  Hendrik  van  der  Puttens' 
Latin  extravaganza  Comus.  What  Tennyson  said  of  this  class 
of  critics  is  to  the  point :  — 


COMUS  125 

"There  is,  I  fear,  a  prosaic  set  growing  up  among  us,  editors 
of  booklets,  book-worms,  index-hunters,  or  men  of  great  memo- 
ries and  no  imagination,  who  impute  themselves  to  the  poet,  and 
so  believe  that  he,  too,  has  no  imagination,  but  is  forever  poking 
his  nose  between  the  pages  of  some  old  volume  in  order  to  see 
what  he  can  appropriate." 

On  the  whole,  Time  treats  great  things  greatly.  This  reveals 
how  close  to  the  great  world's  heart  noble  poetry  lies.  It  has 
been  said,  that  we  are  all  poets  when  we  read  a  poem  well. 
This  poem  has  been  well  read  and  worthily  praised.  Here  is  a 
great  subject  so  penetrated  by  the  imagination  as  to  reveal  its 
soul,  its  inward  harmony  with  those  "primal  sympathies  which 
having  been,  must  ever  be."  It  is  perhaps  the  finest  illustration 
in  English  literature  of  what  Carlyle  calls  "Musical  Thought." 

"  All  we  see  before  us  passing, 
Sign  and  symbol  is  alone ; 
Here,  what  thought  can  never  reach  to, 
Is  by  semblances  made  known ; 
What  man's  word  may  never  utter 
Done  in  act  —  in  symbol  shown."  —  GOETHE,  Faust. 

Mr.  Stopford  Brooke  says  :  "  It  is  in  the  full-weighted  dignity 
of  the  blank  verse  that  the  poem  was  then  unparalleled.  It 
was  marked  by  a  greater  grandeur  of  style  and  thought,  by  a 
graver  beauty,  and  a  more  exercised  and  self-conscious  art  than 
any  poem  of  its  character  which  England  had  as  yet  known. 
It  belonged  to  the  Elizabethan  spirit,  but  it  went  beyond  it, 
and  made  a  new  departure  for  English  poetry. 

All  the  kinds  of  poetry  which  Milton  touched  he  touched 
with  the  ease  of  great  strength,  and  with  so  much  energy  that 


126  NOTES 

they  became  new  in  his  hands.  He  put  a  fresh  life  into  the 
masque,  the  sonnet,  the  elegy,  the  descriptive  lyric,  the  song, 
the  choral  drama  ;  and  he  created  the  epic  in  England." 

Professor  George  Saintsbury  says:  "The  versification  is  the 
versification  of  Paradise  Lost  and  has  a  spring,  a  variety,  a 
sweep  and  rush  of  genius  which  are  but  rarely  present  later. 
If  poetry  could  be  taught  by  the  reading  of  it,  then  indeed  the 
critic's  advice  to  a  poet  might  be  limited  to  this :  '  Give  your 
days  and  nights  to  the  reading  of  Comus."1  " 

Sir  Henry  Wotton,  Provost  of  Eton  College,  was  perhaps  the 
first  to  express  to  Milton  his  appreciation  of  the  poem  (cf.  p.  23). 

"  Comus"  says  Hallam,  "  was  sufficient  to  convince  any  one  of 
taste  and  feeling  that  a  great  poet  had  arisen  in  England  and  one 
partly  formed  in  a  different  school  from  his  contemporaries." 

Emerson  says  :  u  Milton  is  rightly  dear  to  mankind,  because 
in  him  —  among  so  many  perverse  and  partial  men  of  genius  — 
humanity  rights  itself  :  the  old  eternal  goodness  finds  a  home 
in  his  breast,  and  for  once  shows  itself  beautiful.  Among  so 
many  contrivances  to  make  holiness  ugly,  in  Milton  at  least  it 
was  so  pure  a  flame  that  the  foremost  impression  his  characters 
make  is  that  of  elegance.  He  said,  *  Every  free  and  gentle 
spirit,  without  the  oath  of  chastity,  ought  to  be  born  a  knight : 
nor  needed  to  expect  the  gilt  spur,  or  the  laying  a  sword  upon 
his  shoulder,  to  stir  him  up,  by  his  counsel  and  his  arms,  to 
secure  and  protect  innocence.'  This  native  honor  never  for- 
sook him.  It  is  the  spirit  of  Comus,  the  loftiest  song  in  praise 
of  chastity  that  is  in  any  language." 

Mr.  Henry  Van  Dyke  says  :  "The  Lady  in  Comus  is  the 
sweet  embodiment  of  Milton's  youthful  ideal  of  virtue  clothed 


COMUS  127 

with  the  fairness  of  opening  womanhood,  armed  with  the  sun- 
clad  power  of  chastity." 

"No  courtier  of  Charles  I.,"  says  F.  D.  Maurice,  ufelt  the 
attraction  of  the  masques  and  entertainments  in  which  the 
monarch  and  his  wife  delighted,  more  than  the  young  Puritan. 
In  the  masque  of  '  Comus '  the  object  was  to  exhibit  in  richer  and 
more  glorious  verse  than  had  ever  been  consecrated  to  courtly 
tastes  and  courtly  indulgences,  the  battle  of  virtue  with  its 
tempters,  and  the  Divine  help  which  is  sustaining  it  against 
them." 

3.  insphered.     Cf.  II  Penseroso,  88,  and  Arcades,  63-73. 

4.  serene.     Some  critics  think  this  should  be  accented  on 
the  first  syllable,  but  Masson  prefers  the  usual  pronunciation  of 
the  word. 

7.  pestered.  From  in  and  pastorium,  a  clog  upon  a  horse 
at  pasture,  hence  to  encumber. 

pinfold.  Anglo-Saxon  pyndan,  to  shut  in  ;  hence  a  pound  in 
which  stray  beasts  are  put. 

11.  enthroned.     A  dissyllable. 
13.  golden  key.     Cf.  Lycidas,  111. 

16.  ambrosial  weeds.  Celestial  garments.  Cf.  L? Allegro, 
120,  and  note. 

20.  high  and  nether  Jove.     Jupiter  and  Pluto.     Cf.  Homer, 
Iliad,  ix.  457,  ZeOs  re  /carax^nos,  Subterranean  Jove,  i.e.  Pluto. 
"  The  air  is  Zeus,  Zeus  earth,  and  Zeus  the  heaven, 
Zeus  all  that  is,  and  what  transcends  them  all." 

—  JESCHYLOS,  Fragment,  293,  Plumptre. 

23.  unadorned.     Supply  before  this,  "otherwise." 


128  NOTES 

25.  several.    Separate. 

27.  this  Isle,  etc.     Great  Britain.     Cf.  Richard  II. ,  ii.  1  :  — 
"  This  royal  throne  of  kings,"  etc. 

29.  quarters.     Divides. 

blue-haired.     An  epithet  relating  to  them  as  of  the  sea. 
"  The  blue-haired  ocean."  —  Mansus. 

30.  this  tract,  etc.     Western  Britain  or  Wales. 

31.  noble  Peer,  etc.     The  Earl  of  Bridge  water, 
mickle.     Much. 

33.  old  and  haughty  nation.    The  Welsh,  proud  of  being 
descendants  of  the  Celts. 

34.  nursed.     Educated. 

43-45.  for  I  will  tell,  etc.    Cf.  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream, 
v.  1:  — 

"  Come  now ;  what  masques,  what  dances  shall  we  have, 
To  wear  away  this  long  age  of  three  hours 
Between  our  after-supper  and  bed-time  ? 
Where  is  our  usual  manager  of  mirth  ? 
What  revels  are  in  hand  ?    Is  there  no  play, 
To  ease  the  anguish  of  a  torturing  hour? 

What  masque,  what  music  ?    How  shall  we  beguile 
The  lazy  time,  if  not  with  some  delight?  " 

45.  hall  or  bower.    Large  public  room  and  private  apartments. 
46-50.  Bacchus,  etc. 

"  Think  not  that  wine  against  good  verse  offends ; 
The  Muse  and  Bacchus  have  been  always  friends." 

—  Elegy  vi. 


COMUS  129 

48.  After  the  Tuscan  mariners  transformed.  After  the 
transformation  of  the  Tuscan  mariners.  Alluding  to  the  seizure 
of  Bacchus  by  pirates  and  their  transformation  into  dolphins  as 
given  in  Homer's  Hymn  to  Bacchus. 

50.  Circe's  island.     Cf.  Odyssey,  x. 
54-58.  This  Nymph,  etc.     This  is  a  creation  of  Milton. 
60.  Celtic  and  Iberian.     France  and  Spain. 
65.  orient.     Shining. 
67.  fond.  Foolish. 

74.  Not  once  perceive,  etc.  This  is  a  variation  from  the 
Homeric  account,  where  the  companions  of  Ulysses  are  con- 
scious of  their  state. 

83.  spun  out  of  Iris'  woof.     Cf .  Paradise  Lost,  xi.  244  :  — 

"  Iris  had  dipt  the  woof." 

84-91.  a  swain,  etc.  A  compliment  to  Henry  Lawes,  who 
was  the  actor  of  the  part. 

88.  of  less  faith.  Not  less  trustworthy  than  he  is  skilled  in 
music.  (M.) 

92.  viewless  now.     Cf.  Paradise  Lost,  iii.  516-518  :  — 
"  Each  stair  mysteriously  was  meant,  not  stood 
There  always,  but  drawn  up  to  Heaven  sometimes 
Viewless." 

95-97.  the  gilded  car  of  day,  etc.     Alluding  to  the  ancient 
idea  that  the  ocean  hissed  when  the  setting  sun  dropped  into  it. 
98.  slope.     Declining,  aslope. 
105.  rosy  twine.     Wreaths  of  roses. 
K 


130  NOTES 

110.  saws.     Maxims. 

"  I'll  wipe  away  all  trivial  fond  records, 
All  saws  of  books,"  etc.  — Hamlet,  i.  5. 

113.  spheres.  Cf.  Arcades,  63-73,  11  Penseroso,  88,  89,  and 
notes. 

116.  morrice.     A  dance  introduced  by  the  Moors. 

129.  Cotytto.  A  Thracian  divinity  whose  rites  were  asso- 
ciated with  impurity. 

132.  spets.     Old  form  of  spits. 

135.  Hecat'.  Hecate.  Presiding  genius  of  witchcraft,  sor- 
cery, etc.  Cf.  Macbeth,  ii.  1 :  — 

*'  witchcraft  celebrates 
Pale  Hecate's  offerings." 

144.  fantastic  round.     Cf.  V Allegro,  34,  note. 
151.  trains.  Allurements. 

154.  dazzling  spells,  etc.  Some  device  is  here  resorted  to 
for  producing  brilliant  scintillations  which  the  air  (spongy) 
sucks  up. 

167.  Whom  thrift,  etc.  This  line  is  omitted  in  ed.  of  1673 
and  the  next  two  are  transposed. 

175.  granges.  Granaries. 

188.  grey-hooded  Even.     Cf.  Wordsworth,  Sonnet:  — 

"  It  is  a  beauteous  evening  calm  and  free : 
The  holy  time  is  quiet  as  a  nun." 

204.  single.     Pure,  unmixed, 


COMUS  131 

207.  calling  shapes.  Cf.  Fletcher,  Faithful  Shepherdess 
(Newton)  :  — 

"  Or  voices  calling  me  in  dead  of  night 
To  make  me  follow." 

215.    Chastity.     Substituted  by  Milton  for  Charity. 
232.  Meander.     A  river  of  Asia  Minor  full  of  windings. 
234.    nightingale.     Cf.  To  the  Nightingale,  note. 

237.  Narcissus.  The  beautiful  youth  in  love  for  whom  Echo 
pined  away  till  only  her  voice  was  left,  and  who  was  changed 
into  a  flower. 

253.  with  the  Sirens.     This  is  invented  by  Milton. 

254.  flowery-kirtled.     Wreathed  irfHowers. 

257-259.   Scylla  .  .  .  Charybdis.     Cf.  ^Eneid,  iii.  551-560. 

267.   Unless.     Supply  after  this,  "  thou  be.'7 

290.  Hebe.     Goddess  of  youth. 

293.   swinked.     Fatigued. 

299.   element.     Air  or  sky. 

301.   plighted.     Pleated,  folded. 

313.   bosky.     Woody. 

315.  attendance.     For  attendants. 

317.  low-roosted.  The  lark's  nest  is  on  the  ground.  That 
dear  old  poet,  Izaak  Walton,  says:  "At  first  the  Lark,  when 
she  means  to  rejoice,  to  cheer  herself  and  those  that  hear,  she 
then  quits  the  earth  and  sings  as  she  ascends  higher  into  the 
air ;  and  having  ended  her  heavenly  employment  grows  mute 


132  NOTES 

and  sad  to  think  she  must  descend  to  the  dull  earth  which  she 
would  not  touch  but  for  necessity." 

334.   disinherit.     Dispossess. 

341,  342.  star  of  Arcady,  etc.  Alluding  to  the  Great  Bear 
being  as  Tyrian  Cynosure  to  the  pole-star  in  it ;  Callisto, 
daughter  to  the  king  of  Arcady,  was  changed  into  the  Great 
Bear.  The  Tyrian  sailors  steered  by  Cynosure  —  the  pole-star. 

360.   To  cast  the  fashion.     To  anticipate  the  form. 

366.  so  to  seek.     So  helpless. 

367.  unprincipled.     Unlearned. 

380    all  to-ruffled.     Ruffled  very  much,  completely. 
382.    i'  the  centre.     Of  the  earth.    Cf .  Hamlet,  ii.  2  :  — 

"  I  will  find 

Where  truth  is  hid,  even  though  it  were  hid  indeed 
Within  the  centre." 
385.  Himself  is  his  own  dungeon.     Cf.  Samson  Agonistes :  — 

"  Thou  art  become  (O  worse  imprisonment!) 
The  dungeon  of  thyself." 

393.  Hesperian  tree.  That  bore  the  golden  apples  in  the 
garden  of  the  Hesperides  watched  by  the  dragon  which  Her- 
cules slew. 

395.  unenchanted.    Not  to  be  enchanted. 

398.  unsunned.     Hidden. 

401.  wink  on.     Fail  to  see. 

407.  unowned.     Unprotected. 

408.  Infer.     Argue. 


COMUS  133 

413.  squint  suspicion.  Spenser  in  Faerie  Queene,  III.  xii.  15, 
says  of  Suspicion  :  — 

"  His  rolling  eies  did  never  rest  in  place." 
423.   trace.     Traverse, 
unharboured.     Not  affording  shelter. 
432.    Some  say  no  evil  thing.     Cf .  Hamlet,  i,  1 :  — 

"  Some  say  that  ever  'gainst  that  season  comes 
Wherein  our  Saviour's  birth  is  celebrated, 
The  bird  of  dawning  singeth  all  night  long : 
And  then,  they  say,  no  spirit  dares  stir  abroad." 

434,  435.    unlaid  ghost,  etc.     Cf.  Tempest,  v.  1  :  — 

' 'whose  pastime 

Is  to  make  midnight  mushrooms,  that  rejoice 
To  hear  the  solemn  curfew." 

436.   swart.    Black. 

439.  Antiquity.  Up  to  this  time  allusion  had  been  made 
only  to  Mediaeval  legend. 

453.  So  dear  to  Heaven.  Now  the  speaker  passes  into  Pla- 
tonic philosophy  with  a  touch  of  Christianity.  (M.) 

459-469.    Till  oft,  etc.     Platonism.    Cf.  Byron,  Prisoner  of 

Chillon :  — 

11  So  much  a  long  communion  tends 

To  make  us  what  we  are." 

Cf.  Tennyson,  By  an  Evolutionist,  and  Browning,  Rabbi  Ben 
Ezra. 

476-479.  How  charming,  etc.  An  allusion  to  Plato,  whom 
Milton  admired. 


134  NOTES 

491.  you  fall  on  iron  stakes  else.  A  caution  to  those  who 
may  be  friendly.  (M.) 

494,  495.  Thyrsis,  etc.     A  compliment  to  Henry  Lawes. 

495-512.  Note  the  rhyme  scheme  here.  The  purpose  is  to 
prolong  to  feeling  of  pastoralism  by  calling  up  the  cadence  of 
known  English  pastorals.  (M.) 

515-518.  What  the  sage  poets,  etc.  An  allusion  to  the 
stories  of  Homer  and  Virgil. 

520.  navel.     Centre. 

526.  murmurs.     Spells. 

529.  unmoulding.     Destroying. 

531.  hilly  crofts.     Upland  pastures. 

534.  stabled  wolves.     Wolves  in  pens. 

552.  Till  an  unusual  stop.     Alluding  to  line  145. 

553.  drowsy-flighted.     Startled  from  their  drowse. 

555-562.  At  last,  etc.  A  beautiful  compliment  to  the  singing 
of  Lady  Alice. 

604.  Acheron.     The  infernal  river,  here  used  for  Hell.     Cf. 
Phineas  Fletcher's  Locusts :  — 

"  All  hell  run  out,  and  sooty  flags  display."     (M.) 

605.  Harpies.     Cf.  JEneid,  iii.  216-218 :  — 

''Birds  with  maidens'  faces,  a  foul  discharge,  crooked  talons, 
and  on  their  cheeks  the  pallor  of  eternal  famine." 

606.  Ind.     India  :  the  region  of  black  enchantments.     (M.) 
608.  curls.     Comus  the  voluptuary  god  wore  curls.     (K.) 


COMUS  135 

619-628.  shepherd  lad.     An  allusion  to  Milton's  friend  Dio- 
dati.     Cf.  Epitaphium  Damonis  and  Elegies  L,  vi 
627.  simples.     Medicinal  herbs. 

635.  clouted  shoon.     Mended  shoes. 

636.  Moly.     Cf.  Odyssey,  x.     By  this  plant  Ulysses  is  made 
proof  from  the  charms  of  Circe. 

"  The  root  is  black, 

The  blossom  white  as  milk.    Among  the  gods 
Its  name  is  Moly." 

638.  Haemony.     Milton  invents  this.     It  may  be  from  Hce- 
monia,  the  old  name  for  Thessaly,  the  land  of  magic.     (M.) 

646.  lime-twigs.     Snares  smeared  with  bird  lime. 

655.  like  the  sons  of  Vulcan,  vomit  smoke.     Cf.  JEneid,  viii. 
251-253,  where  the  giant  Cacus,  son  of  Vulcan,  is  alluded  to  :  — 
"  Cacus,  half  man,  half  brute. 

This  monster's  father  was  Vulcan.    Vulcan's 

Were  the  murky  fires  that  he  disgorged  from  his  mouth." 

661.  Daphne.     Who  when  Apollo  pursued  her  was  turned 
into  a  laurel  tree. 

672.  julep.     Mint  julep,  here  a  cordial. 

675.  Nepenthes.     A  drug  which  Helen  gave  to  Menelaus. 
Cf.  Odyssey,  iv.  220  :  — 

"  Helen,  Jove-born  dame, 
With  the  wine  they  drank  mingled  a  drug, 
An  antidote  to  grief  and  anger." 

wife  of  Thone.     Polydamna  an  Egyptian. 


136  NOTES 

698.  vizored.     Disguised. 

707.  those  budge  doctors  of  the  Stoic  fur.     Budge  was  an 
old  name  for  lamb's  fur,  as  worn  on  scholastic  gowns. 

Stoic.     Who  despised  the  pleasures  of  the  senses. 

708.  Cynic  tub.     Of  Diogenes. 
711.  unwithdrawing.     Liberal. 
719.  hutched.     Put  in  a  chest. 
721.  pulse.     Beans,  pease,  etc. 

739-755.  Beauty  is  Nature's  coin,  etc.     Cf.  Shakespeare's 
Sonnets,  i.-vi. 

750.  sorry  grain.     Poor  color. 

751.  ply  the  sampler.     Make  needlework  for  samples.     Cf. 
Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  iii.  2  :  — 

"  We,  Hermia,  like  two  artificial  gods, 
Have  with  our  needles  created  both  one  flower, 
Both  on  one  sampler." 

756-761.  I  had  not  thought,  etc.     These  lines  are  an  Aside. 
760.  bolt.     Refine. 

791.  fence.     Thrusts.     The  figure  is  from  fencing. 
800-806.  She  fables  not,  etc.     These  lines  are  an  Aside. 

803.  wrath  of  Jove.     In  the  war  of  the  Titans. 

804.  Erebus.  Infernal  regions. 

809,  810.  'tis  but  the  lees,  etc.     An  allusion  to  the  old  idea 
that  the  gases  of  the  stomach  rose  and  affected  the  brain. 

816.  rod  reversed.     According  to  the  old  customs  of  undoing 


COMUS  137 

the  spell  by  reversing  the  rod  and  pronouncing  the  words  of 
the  charm  backwards.     (M.)  > 

822.  Meliboeus.      Common  name  for  shepherds.      Here  for 
Geoffrey  of  Monmouth. 

823.  soothest.     Truest. 

824-827.  There  is  a  gentle  Nymph,  etc.  Milton  at  one  time 
meditated  a  poem  on  the  settlement  of  Britain.  He  wrote  a 
history  of  Britain  as  far  as  the  Conquest.  He  here  alludes  to 
the  old  legend  in  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth 's  History  of  the 
Britons,  which  makes  Brutus  the  second  founder  of  Britain. 
One  of  his  sons,  Locrine,  although  he  was  engaged  to  Guen- 
dolen  of  Cornwall,  fell  in  love  with  Estrildis,  a  German  princess. 
Guendoleivs  father  forced  him  to  marry  her,  but  Estrildis  lived 
in  his  palace  and  bore  him  a  daughter,  Sabre,  or  Sabrina. 
He  divorced  Guendolen  and  acknowledged  Estrildis  and  her 
daughter,  but  Guendolen  rallied  the  Cornish  people  to  her  sup- 
port, defeated  Locrine  and  commanded  Estrildis  and  her  daugh- 
ter to  be  drowned  in  the  river,  now  called  Severn  from  the 
daughter's  name.  Cf.  Faerie  Queene,  II.  x.  14-19. 

"  The  one  she  slew  upon  the  present  floure ; 
But  the  sad  virgin,  innocent  of  all, 
Adowne  the  rolling  river  she  did  poure, 
Which  of  her  name  now  Severne  men  do  call."     (19.) 

It  was  a  very  effective  compliment  to  the  people  of  Wales. 
Milton  varies  the  legend  alittle  in  the  interest  of  Sabrina. 

835.  aged  Nereus'  hall.  Milton  blends  classic  mythology 
with  the  British  legend.  Nereus  was  father  of  the  sea  nymphs, 
Nereids. 


138  NOTES 

838.  asphodil.     A  flower  which  grew  in  the  Elysian  fields. 

845.  Helping  all  urchin  blasts.     The  urchin  or  hedgehog  was 
the  form  often  assumed  by  mischievous  elves.     Helping  is  cur- 
ing.    Cf.  Tempest,  ii.  2.     Caliban  alluding  to  Prospero's  Spirits 
says : — 

"  Sometimes  like  apes  they  mow  and  chatter  at  me, 
And  after  bite  me ;  then  like  hedgehogs  which 
Lie  tumbling  in  my  barefoot  way,"  etc. 

846.  meddling  elf.    One  of  the  followers  of  Kobin  Goodfellow. 
Cf.  IS  Allegro,  105,  and  note. 

852.  old  swain.     Meliboeus. 

858.  After  praising  the  speeches,  Macaulay  says:  "The  in- 
terruptions of  the  dialogue  impose  a  constraint  upon  the  writer, 
and  break  the  illusion  of  the  reader.  The  finest  passages  are 
those  which  are  lyric  in  form  as  well  as  in  spirit.  .  .  .  When 
he  is  at  liberty  to  indulge  his  choral  raptures  without  reserve, 
he  rises  even  above  himself.  ...  He  stands  forth  in  celestial 
freedom  and  beauty." 

863.  amber-dropping.    Amber-colored  and  dripping  with  wet. 

867-889.  Listen  and  appear  to  us,  etc.  Allusions  to  the  clas- 
sical mythology  here  are :  Oceanus,  god  of  the  great  stream 
which  encircled  the  habitable  world  ;  Neptune  is  a  later  sea 
king.  Tethys  is  the  wife  of  Oceanus  and  mother  of  the  river 
gods.  Nereus,  see  note  to  line  835.  Carpathian  Wizard  is 
Proteus,  who  could  change  into  any  shape  ;  he  lived  in  a  cave  in 
Carpathus  in  the  Mediterranean.  He  was  a  sea  shepherd  and 
his  flock  was  of  sea  calves.  Cf.  Virgil,  Georgics,  iv. :  — 

"  In  the  sea  gods'  Carpathian  gulf  there  lives  a  seer,  Proteus,  of 


OOMUS  139 

the  sea's  own  hue,  who  takes  the  measure  of  the  mighty  deep  with 
his  fishes,  even  with  his  harnessed  two-legged  steeds." 

Triton,  son  of  Neptune,  rode  on   sea  horses,  blowing  his 
"wreathed  horn." 

Glaucus  was  a  fisherman  who,  having  eaten  a  certain  herb, 
was  changed  into  a  sea  god,  and  roved  about  islands  uttering 
oracles  for  sailors.    Leucothea  (white  goddess)  was  Ino,  daugh-  ' 
ter  of  Cadmus.     She  threw  herself  and  her  son  into  the  sea  and 
was  changed  into  a  sea  deity.     Cf.  Paradise  Lost,  xi.  135  :  — 
"  Leucothea  waked  and  with  fresh  dews  embalmed  the  Earth." 
Her  son  was  god  of  ports  and  harbors.      Thetis,  one  of  the 
daughters  of  Nereus,  was  mother  of  Achilles  ;  Homer  calls  her 
silverfooted.     Parthenope  and  Ligea  were  Sirens  ;  the  tomb  of 
the  former  was  at  Naples.     The  golden  comb  seems  to  suggest 
the  mermaids  of    northern   mythology   seen    "combing  their 
golden  hair."     (M.) 

"  With  a  comb  of  pearl  I  would  comb  my  hair." 

—  TENNYSON,  The  Mermaid. 

893.  azurn.     Azure. 

894.  turkis.     Turquoise. 

895.  strays.     Moved  along  by  tide. 

897.   printless  feet.     Cf .  Tempest,  v.  1 :  — 

"  And  ye  that  on  the  sands  with  printless  foot 

Do  chase  the  ebbing  Neptune."    \ 

921.    Amphitrite's  bower.     Chamber  of  Amphitrite,  the  wife 
of  Neptune. 

923.   Anchises'  line.     Anchises  was  the  founder  of  the  line 
through  ^Eneas,  Brutus,  etc. 


140  NOTES 

929.   tresses.     Foliage  on  thy  banks. 

934.   lofty  head.     Source  of  the  river,  and  possibly  put  for 
the  river  itself. 

958.  Back,  shepherds.     The  country  dancers  are  interrupted 
by  the  arrival  of  this  party. 

959.  sun-shine  holiday.      Compare  this  merrymaking  with 
that  in  V  Allegro,  92-98. 

960.  without  duck  or  nod.     They  are  now  to  lay  aside  their 
country  ways  and  assume  the  manners  of  the  courtly  dancers. 

976-979.    To  the  ocean  now  I  fly,  etc.     Cf.  Ariel's  song  in 
Tempest,  v.  1 :  — 

"  Where  the  hee  sucks,  there  suck  I; 
In  the  cowslip's  bell  I  lie  ; 
There  I  couch  when  owls  do  cry. 
On  the  bat's  back  I  do  fly,"  etc. 

Compare  these  closing  lines  of  Comus  with  "Thence  through 
the  gardens,"  etc.  Cf.  Tennyson's  Recollections  of  the  Arabian 
Nights. 

981.   the  gardens,  etc.    Cf.  393,  note. 
990.   cedarn.     Of  cedar. 

998.    Beds  of  hyacinth.      Cf.    Faerie    Queene,   iii.   vi.  46. 
Adonis  lies 

"Lapped  in  flowres  and  pretious  spycery." 

1002.    Assyrian  queen.     Astarte,  identified  with  Venus  here. 
1004.    Cupid,  etc.     Cf.  Faerie  Queene,  iii.  vi.  50 :  — 
"  And  his  trew  love  faire  Psyche  with  him  playes,"  etc. 


COMUS  141 

1009.  side.     Cf.  Tennyson's  Rizpah  :  — 

"  They  are  mine  —  not 
Theirs  —  they  had  moved  in  my  side." 

1010.  blissful    twins.      Spenser    gives    but    one    child    to 
Psyche : — 

"  Pleasure,  the  daughter  of  Cupid  and  Psyche  late." 
1017.    corners  of  the  moon.    Cf.  Macbeth,  iii.  5 :  — 

"  Upon  the  corner  of  the  moon 
There  hangs  a  vaporous  drop  profound." 

1022.  Or,  if  Virtue  feeble  were.  Masson  gives  an  interest- 
ing anecdote  in  connection  with  the  last  two  lines  of  Comus. 
When  Milton  was  returning  home  from  his  continental  travel 
in  1639,  he  met  in  Geneva  a  teacher  of  Italian,  Cerdogni  or 
Cardouin,  a  Neapolitan  by  birth,  and  probably  a  Protestant. 
Cardouin  asked  Milton  to  write  in  his  album.  He  complied  and 

wrote  — 

"  If  Virtue  feeble  were 
Heaven  itselfe  would  stoope  to  her. 
"  Coelum  non  animum  muto  dum  trans  mare  curro. 

"JOANNES  MILTONIUS. 
"JuniilO,  1639.  Anglus." 

Masson  says,  "If  we  combine  the  English  lines  with  the 
Latin  addition,  it  is  as  if  he  said  :  '  The  closing  words  of  my 
Comus  are  a  permanent  maxim  with  me.'  " 

The  album  was  sold  in  Geneva  in  1834  for  a  few  shillings, 
and  after  passing  through  several  hands  came  into  the  posses- 
sion of  Hon.  Charles  Sunnier.  It  is  now  in  the  Sumner  collec- 
tion, Harvard  College  Library. 


142  NOTES 

VARIATIONS  IN  STAGE-DIRECTIONS 

Stage-directions  in  the  Cambridge  Ms.,  afterwards  changed 
by  Milton,  are:  Instead  of  the  opening  stage-direction,  "The 
Attendant  Spirit  descends  or  enters,"  we  have  — 

A  Guardian  Spirit  or  Dcemon. 

After  line  92 :  Goes  out.  —  Comus  enters,  with  a  charming- 
rod  and  glass  of  liquor,  with  his  rout  all  headed  like  some  wild 
beasts,  their  garments  some  like  men's  and  some  like  women's. 
They  come  in  a  wild  and  antic  fashion.  Intrant,  /cco/za^res. 

After  144  :   The  Measure,  in  a  wild,  rude,  and  wanton  Antic. 

After  147,  where  there  is  no  stage-direction  now,  we  have : 
They  all  scatter. 

After  243,  where  there  is  no  stage-direction  now,  we  have : 
Comus  looks  in  and  enters. 

After  330  :  Exeunt.  —  The  Two  Brothers  enter. 

After  489 :  He  hallos :  the  Guardian  Daemon  hallos  again 
and  enters  in  the  habit  of  a  shepherd. 

After  658.  The  present  reading  is  the  same  as  in  the  Cam- 
bridge Mss.,  with  the  exception  that  Soft  music  is  omitted  from 
first  sentence  ;  and  the  second  reads  :  Comus  is  discovered  ivith 
his  rabble,  and  The  Lady  set  in  an  enchanted  chair:  she  offers 
to  rise. 

After  813  :  The  Brothers  rush  in,  strike  his  glass  down  ;  the 
Shapes  make  as  though  they  would  resist,  but  are  all  driven  in. 
Daemon  enters  with  them. 

After  866,  where  there  is  no  stage-direction  now,  we  have : 
To  be  said,  and  after  937  there  is,  Song  ends. 


LYCIDAS  143 

After  957 :  Exeunt.  —  The  Scene  changes,  and  then  is  pre- 
sented Ludlow  toivn,  and  the  President's  Castle;  then  enter 
Country  Dances  and  such  like  gambols,  etc.  At  these  sports 
the  Daemon,  with  the  Two  Brothers  and  The  Lady  enter.  The 
Daemon  sings. 

After  965,  we  have  merely,  2  Song. 

1637-1638-1645 
LYCIDAS 

(In  Milton's  hand  in  the  Cambridge  Mss.) 

For  three  years  after  the  composition  of  Comus  Milton  lived 
a  quiet  life  at  Horton  with  books  and  Nature,  but  the  year  1637 
brought  him  his  first  great  grief.  His  mother,  who  had  been 
an  embodiment  of  woman  nobly  planned,  passed  away  on  the 
third  of  April.  She  was  of  sweet  and  tender  disposition,  of 
gracious  household  ways,  and  we  must  believe  that  she  had 
much  to  do  in  opening  the  mind  of  her  son  to  beautiful  thoughts. 
We  believe  he  had  her  in  mind  when  he  wrote  the  following :  — 

"  Yet  when  I  approach 
Her  loveliness,  so  absolute  she  seems 
And  in  herself  complete,  so  well  to  know 
Her  own,  that  what  she  wills  to  do  or  say 
Seems  wisest,  virtuousest,  discreetest,  best. 
All  higher  knowledge  in  her  presence  falls 
Degraded  ;  Wisdom  in  discourse  with  her 
Loses  discountenanced,  and  like  Folly  shows; 
Authority  and  Reason  on  her  wait, 
As  one  intended  first,  not  after  made 


144  NOTES 

Occasionally ;  and  to  consummate  all, 
Greatness  of  mind  and  nobleness  their  seats 
Build  in  her  loveliest,  and  create  an  army 
About  her,  as  a  guard  angelic,  placed." 

—  Paradise  Lost,  viii.  546-559. 

She  was  buried  in  the  Parish  Church  of  Horton.  On  the  plain 
slab  in  the  floor  of  the  chancel  may  be  read—  "Heare  lyeth  the 
Body  of  Sara  Milton,  the  wife  of  John  Milton,  who  died  the  3rd 
of  April,  1631 '." 

It  is  worth  while  here  to  refer  to  those  other  noble  tributes  to 
mothers  in  the  works  of  Wordsworth  and  Tennyson :  — 

"  Early  died  my  honoured  mother,  she  who  was  the  heart 
And  hinge  of  all  our  learnings  and  our  lives : 

She,  not  falsely  taught, 

Fetching  her  goodness  rather  from  times  past, 
Than  shaping  novelties  for  times  to  come, 
Had  no  presumption,  no  such  jealousy, 
Nor  did  by  habit  of  her  thoughts  mistrust 
Our  nature,  but  had  virtual  faith  that  He 
Who  fills  the  mother's  breast  with  innocent  milk, 
Doth  also  for  our  nobler  part  provide 
Under  His  great  correction  and  control, 
As  innocent  instincts,  and  as  innocent  food : 

This  was  her  creed,  and  therefore  she  was  pure 
From  anxious  fear  of  error  or  mishap 
And  evil  overweeningly  so  called. 

Such  was  she.    Not  from  faculties  more  strong 
Than  others  have,  but  from  the  times,  perhaps, 


LYCIDAS  145 

And  spot  in  which  she  lived,  and  through  a  grace 
Of  modest  meekness,  simple-mindedness, 
A  heart  that  found  benignity  and  hope, 
Being  itself  benign." 

—  Prelude,  v. 

"  '  Alone,'  I  said,  '  from  earlier  than  I  know, 
Immersed  in  rich  foreshadowings  of  the  world, 
I  loved  the  woman  :  he,  that  doth  not,  lives 
A  drowning  life,  besotted  in  sweet  self, 
Or  pines  in  sad  experience  worse  than  death, 
Or  keeps  his  wing'd  affections  dipt  with  crime : 
Yet  was  there  one  thro'  whom  I  loved  her,  one 
Not  learned,  save  in  gracious  household  ways, 
Not  perfect,  nay,  but  full  of  tender  wants, 
No  Angel,  but  a  dearer  being,  all  dipt 
In  Angel  instincts,  breathing  Paradise, 
Interpreter  between  the  Gods  and  men, 
Who  look'd  all  native  to  her  place,  and  yet 
On  tiptoe  seem'd  to  touch  upon  a  sphere 
Too  gross  to  tread,  and  all  male  minds  perforce 
Sway'd  to  her  from  their  orbits  as  they  moved, 
And  girdled  her  with  music.     Happy  he 
With  such  a  mother!  faith  in  womankind 
Beats  with  his  blood,  and  trust  in  all  things  high 
Comes  easy  to  him,  and  tho'  he  trip  and  fall 
He  shall  not  blind  his  soul  with  clay.'  " 

—  The  Princess,  vii. 

Hardly  had  Milton  gathered  himself  from  the  shock  of  this 
affliction  when  he  was  called  to  face  another  in  the  death  of  his 
college  friend  Edward  King.  In  the  association  of  Milton  and 
King  we  have  an  illustration  of  those  significantly  touching 


146  NOTES 

attachments  of  man  to  man  which  have  so  often  quickened 
the  pulse  and  chastened  the  spirit  of  English  poetry;  as  in  the 
case  of  Spenser  and  Sidney,  Shakespeare  and  u  W.  H.,  the  only 
begetter  of  the  Sonnets,"  Shelley  and  Keats,  Tennyson  and 
Hallain,  Arnold  and  Clough,  Wordsworth  and  Coleridge. 

King  was  one  of  the  students  of  Milton's  time  of  whom  much 
was  to  be  expected.  He  had  written  some  respectable  Latin 
verse,  and  was  appointed  to  a  Fellowship  in  Christ's  College. 
In  the  long  vacation  of  1637  he  started  on  a  visit  to  his  family 
and  friends  in  Ireland,  and  while  passing  from  Chester  to  Dub- 
lin the  vessel  struck  on  the  rocks^  and  he,  with  other  passengers, 
was  drowned.  A  volume  of  memorial  verses*  was  proposed  at 
the  reassembling  of  the  College  in  October,  and  early  in  1638 
was  published  in  two  sections,  one  in  Latin  and  Greek,  and  the 
other  in  English  ;  the  title  of  the  latter  was  "Obsequies  to-lffle 
Memorie  of  Mr.  Edward  King,  Anno  Dom.,  1638."  In  this 
collection  Milton's  poem  stands  last. 

Among  the  Sicilian  and  Alexandrian  Greek*}  f.hg 
form  of  poetry  which  idealized  country  life,  in  which  the 
and  freshness  of  simple  primary  affections  and  passions  were 
the  centre  of  int,p.rp.ajt  Theocritus  the  Syracusan  was  the  most 
important  of  the  creators  of  this  poetry. 

"Nay,  but,  Galatea,  come! 

Come  thence,  and  having  come,  forget  henceforth, 
As  I  (who  tarry  here) ,  to  seek  thy  home  ! 
And  may'st  thou  love  with  me  to  feed  the  flocks 
And  milk  them  and  to  press  the  cheese  with  me, 
Curdling  their  milk  with  rennet." 

—  THEOCRITUS. 


LYCIDAS  147 

They  gave  the  name  Eclogues  (Eklogai),  Goatherd's  Tales, 
to  these  simple  productions. 

Virgil  copied  from  the  Greeks  and  gave  the  name  Bucolic  or 
Pastoral  to  his  work.  He  says  :  "  Muses  of  Sicily,  let  us  strike 
a  somewhat  loftier  strain  ...  at  length  a  new  generation  is 
descending  from  heaven."  And  again  :  "  First  of  all,  my  muse 
deigned  to  disport  herself  in  the  strains  of  pastoral  Syracuse, 
and  disdained  not  to  make  her  home  in  the  woods,  goddess  as 

she  was'"  —  Eclogues  iv.  and  vi. 

"  Cruel  Alexis  !  have  you  no  care  for  my  songs  ?  no  pity  for 
me  ?  You  will  drive  me  to  death  at  last.  It  is  the  hour  when 
even  cattle  are  seeking  the  shade  and  its  coolness  —  the  hour 
when  even  green  lizards  are  sheltering  themselves  in  the  brakes, 
and  Thestylis  is  preparing  for  the  reapers,  as  they  come  back 
spent  with  the  vehement  heat,  her  savory  mess  of  garlic  and 
wild  thyme."  -  Eclogue  ii. 

A^ Virgil  r»rjpiedfrom  the  Greeks,  so  the  Italians  of  the 
Eenaissance  imitated  Virgil,  but  added  an  element  of  moralizing 
verging  on  satire.  With  the  Renaissance  the  pastoral  entered 
England,  with  Sidney  and  Spenser  it  reached  its  finest  type  in 
the  Arcadia,  The  Shepheard's  Calendar,  and  The  Faerie  Queene. 

"  Shepheards,  that  wont,  on  pipes  of  oaten  reed, 
Oft  times  to  plaine  your  loves  concealed  smart ; 
And  with  your  piteous  layes  have  learnd  to  breed 
Compassion  in  a  countrey  lasses  hart 
Hearken,  ye  gentle  shepheards,  to  my  song, 
And  place  my  dolefull  plaint  your  plaints  emong." 

—  Astrophel. 


148  NOTES 

Writing  to  a  friend  at  this  time,  Milton  says:  u  What  God 
has  resolved  concerning  me  I  know  not,  but  this  I  know  at 
least  —  He  has  instilled  into  me  a  vehement  love  of  the  beauti- 
ful. .  .  .  You  ask  what  I  am  thinking  of  ?  So  may  the  Good 
Deity  help  me  ;  of  immortality  —  I  am  pluming  my  wings  and 
meditating  flight."  He  may  have  been  meditating  upon  his 
epic  when  the  death  of  his  friend  called  him  away  for  a  time. 
The  poem  is  pastoral  in  form,  with  prologue  and 


a^hndv  of  monody  by  a  sheph  erd^mournin  g.  That  Milton'  s 
feelings  tended  to  cause  him  to  violate  this  form  we  are  sure,  s^s 
twice  he  checks  himself  for  passing  beyond  the  limits  of  a  pastoral. 
Alluding  to  the  mingling  of  national  and  social  philosophy 
with  the  pastoral  mourning,  Mr.  Stopford  Brooke  says:  "One 
of  its  strange  charms  is  its  solemn  undertone  rising  like  a 
religious  chant  through  the  elegiac  music.  .  .  .  the  sense  of 
Christian  religion  pervading  the  classical  imagery."  The  tone 
Of  religious  earnestness,  which  is  manifest  as  a  subordinate  ele- 
ment in  the  early  poems,  becomes  primary  in  the  poems  of  the 
Horton  period.  It  is  in  the  L?  Allegro  and  II  Penseroso  as  a  plea 
for  a  "  reasonable  life"  ;  in  Comus  as  a  condemnation  of  the 
license  of  the  court,  and  a  hymn  in  praise  of  temperance  and 
chastity  ;  in  the  Lycidas  as  a  fierce  denunciation  of  the  cor- 
ruptions of  the  churcjj  —  that  "grim  wolf  with  privy  paw." 
"  Lowell  says:  "The  strain  heard  in  the  'Nativity  Ode,'  in 
the  'Solemn  Music,'  and  in  'Lycidas'  is  of  a  higher  mood,  as 
regards  metrical  construction,  than  anything  that  had  thrilled 
the  English  ear  before,  giving  no  uncertain  augury  of  him  who 
was  to  show  what  sonorous  metal  lay  silent  till  he  touched  the 
keys  in  the  epical  organ-pipes  of  our  various  languages." 


LYCIDAS  149 

Emerson  says:  "No  individual  writer  has  been  an  equal 
benefactor  of  the  English  language  by  showing  its  capabili- 
ties." 

1.  Yet  once  more,  etc.  Three  years  had  elapsed  since  Milton 
had  written  Comus.  He  had  written  nothing  in  the  interim. 

3-5.  I  come  to  pluck,  etc.  The  symbolism  here  evidently  is 
that  he  is  compelled  to  write  when  but  for  the  sad  event  he 
would  be  gathering  himself  for  work  which  would  merit  the 
laurel  wreath  in  due  season. 

8,  9.   Lycidas  is  dead  .  .  .  young  Lycidas.   The  name  Lyci-    \ 
das  is  taken  from  classic  pastorals  by  Ovid  and  Virgil.     The 
reflection  here  is  common.     Cf .  Spenser,  Astrophel :  — 

"  Young  Astrophel,  the  pride  of  shepheard's  praise, 
Young  Astrophel,  the  rusticke  lasses  love." 

15.    Begin  then.     Cf.  Spenser,  Teares  of  the  Muses :  — 
"Rehearse  to  me,  ye  sacred  Sisters  nine,"  etc. 

sacred  well.  The  Pierian  Spring  at  the  foot  of  Olympus,  the 
seat  of  the  Homeric  Pantheon. 

19-22.  So  may  some  gentle  Muse,  etc.  The  prayer  here 
expressed  by  Milton  that  he  himself  would  merit  some  memorial 
has  been  generously  answered. 

23-36.  For  we  were  nursed,  etc.  A  beautiful  setting  of  their 
life  at  Cambridge. 

28.    grey-fly.     Cleg,  or  horse-fly. 

34-36.    Rough  Satyrs,  etc.    Masson  thinks  there  may  be  an 


150  NOTES 

allusion  here  to  some  of  Milton's  undergraduate  associates,  and 
that  old  Damcetus  may  refer  to  some  Fellow  or  tutor. 

40.   gadding.     Wandering,  straggling. 

46.  taint-worm.  The  name  tainct  was  once  given  to  a  small 
red  spider,  deadly  to  cattle.  (M.) 

49.  Such,  Lycidas,  thy  loss  to  shepherd's  ear.  Cf.  Mid- 
summer Night's  Dream,  i.  1 :  — 

''More  tuneable  than  lark  to  shepherd's  ear, 
When  wheat  is  green,  when  hawthorn  buds  appear." 

50-55.  Where  were  ye,  etc.     Cf.  Virgil,  Eclogue  x. :  — 

"  What  forests,  what  lawns  were  your  abode,  virgin  nymphs  of 
the  fountains,  when  Gallus  was  wasting  under  an  unworthy  passion  ? 
What,  indeed  ?  for  it  was  not  any  spot  in  the  ridges  of  Parnassus 
or  of  Pindus  that  kept  you  there ;  no,  nor  Aonian  Aganippe." 

Virgil  imitated  the  first  idyl  of  Theocritus,  but  Masson 
agrees  with  Keightley  that  Milton  excels  Virgil  in  imitation. 

52.  the  steep,  etc.  This  is  an  allusion  to  some  particular 
mountain  in  Wales. 

54.  Mona.     The  fastness  of  the  Druids  in  Anglesey. 

55.  Deva.     The  Dee.     The  old  boundary  between  England 
and  Wales.     Cf.  Faerie  Queene,  I.  ix.  4 :  — 

"  From  whence  the  river  Dee,  as  silver  cleene, 
His  tombling  billowes  rolls  with  gentle  rore." 

Chester,  the  port  from  which  King  sailed,  is  on  the  Dee. 

58-63.  What  could  the  Muse,  etc.  Orpheus,  the  son  of  Cal- 
liope, because  he  continued  to  grieve  for  Eurydice  (cf.  note, 


LYC1DAS  151 

V Allegro,  145),  was  torn  to  pieces  by  the  offended  Thracian 
women  in  their  Bacchanalian  orgies.  The  Muses  buried  frag- 
ments of  the  body  at  the  foot  of  Mount  Olympus,  but  his  head 
was  thrown  into  the  river  Hebrus,  which  carried  it  to  the 
island  of  Lesbos,  where  it  was  buried.  Cf.  Paradise  Lost,  vii. 

32-39 :  — 

"  But  drive  far  off  the  barbarous  dissonance 
Of  Bacchus,  and  his  revellers,  the  race 
Of  that  wild  rout  that  tore  the  Thracian  bard 
In  Rhodope,  where  woods  and  rocks  had  ears 
To  rapture,  till  the  savage  clamour  drown'd 
Both  harp  and  voice ;  nor  could  the  Muse 
Defend  her  son." 

67-69.  Were  it  not  better,  etc.    To  lead  a  life  of  ease  and 
pleasure.     Amaryllis  and  Necera  are  names  of  shepherds'  sweet- 
hearts in  the  old  pastorals. 
70.    clear.     Aspiring. 
75.   blind  Fury.     Atropos. 

77.  touched  my  trembling  ears.  The  idea  here  seems  to  be 
that  Milton  was  over-anxious  for  fame.  Cf.  Virgil,  Eclogue  vi. 
"Cum  canerem  reges  et  proelia,  Cynthius  aurem  vellit,  et 
admonuit,"  which  Conington  translates,  "  When  I  was  ventur- 
ing to  sing  of  kings  and  battles,  the  Cynthian  god  touched  my 
ear  and  appealed  to  my  memory."  Here  touching  the  ear  is 
symbolic  of  quickening  the  memory. 

79.  glistering  foil.  Temporary  reputation,  which  might  like 
the  shining  tinsel  wrap  a  very  cheap  article. 

81,  82.  But  lives,  etc.  Compare  this  alliance  of  Heaven  with 
true  fame,  with  the  idea  in  the  last  two  lines  of  Comus. 


152  NOTES 

85,  86.  0  fountain  Arethuse.  The  nymph  of  the  fountain  of 
Arethusa  in  Sicily  was  the  Muse  of  pastoral  poetry  as  revealed 
in  Theocritus :  Mincius  was  a  river  of  Italy  near  which  Virgil, 
the  type  of  Latin  pastoral  poet,  was  born.  Cf.  Virgil,  Eclogue 
vii. :  — 
"  Mincius  fringing  his  green  banks  with  a  border  of  vocal  reeds." 

87,  88.  That  strain,  etc.  The  words  of  Apollo  were  more 
profound  than  the  simple  pastoral. 

89,  90.  the  Herald  of  the  sea,  etc.  In  the  judicial  inquiry 
in  regard  to  the  death  of  Lycidas  Triton  came  as  representative 
of  Neptune. 

93.  rugged.     Ragged.     Cf.  V Allegro,  9. 

96.  Hippotades.  ^Eolus,  the  god  of  the  winds,  was  son  of 
Hippotes. 

99.  Panope.     One  of  the  Nereids. 

101.  Built  in  the  eclipse.     Cf.  Macbeth,  iv.  1 :  — 

"  Slips  of  yew 

Slivered  in  the  moon's  eclipse" 
are  one  of  the  ingredients  of  the  witches'  hell-broth. 

103-107.  Next,  Camus,  etc.  The  genius  of  the  river  Cam 
and  of  Cambridge  University.  Masson  gives  the  note  in 
Plumptre's  Greek  translation  of  Comus  in  explanation  of  the 
garb  of  Camus  :  — 

"  The  mantle  is  as  if  made  of  the  plant  '  river  spruce '  which 
floats  copiously  on  the  Cam :  the  bonnet  of  the  river-sedge,  dis- 
tinguished by  vague  marks  traced  somehow  over  the  middle  of 
the  leaves  and  serrated  at  the  edge  of  the  leaves,  after  the 


LYCIDAS  153 

fashion  of  the  Af,  A?  of  the  hyacinth. "     The  hyacinth  was  the 

flower  in  whose  petals  the  Greeks  saw  the  Af,  at.     Alas  !  Alas  ! 

Inwrought.     In  the  Ms.  this  is  "scrawled  o'er." 

107.  pledge.     Hope,  an  allusion  to  the  expectation  of  what 

King  would  have  done  had  he  lived.  Cf.  In  Memoriam,  LXXII.  :  — 

"  The  fame  is  quench'd  that  I  foresaw, 

The  head  hath  miss'd  an  earthly  wreath,"  etc. 

108-131.  Last  came,  etc.  Cf.  Matthew,  iv.  18-20.  The 
reader  should  consult  Ruskin's  comment  on  this  passage  in 
"  King's  Treasures  "  (Sesame  and  Lilies).  Masson  says,  "  St. 
Peter,  here  called  by  name  suggesting  his  original  occupation  as 
fisherman  and  with  occult  reference  to  the  fact  that  Lycidas 
had  perished  at  sea."  The  tradition  of  the  Church  as  to  the 
office  of  St.  Peter  is  symbolized  by  the  possession  of  the  two 
keys,  one  for  opening  and  the  other  for  shutting.  "Though 
not  a  lover  of  false  bishops,  Milton  was  a  lover  of  true  ones."  — 
RUSKIN.  "And  were  the  punishment  and  misery  of  being  a 
prelate-bishop  terminated  only  in  the  person,  and  did  not  ex- 
tend to  the  affliction  of  the  whole  diocese,  if  I  would  wish  any- 
thing in  the  bitterness  of  soul  to  mine  enemy,  I  would  wish  him 
the  biggest  and  fattest  bishopric." — Apology  for  Smectymnuus. 

112.  mitred  locks.     Milton  here  allows  St.  Peter  to  speak 
with  episcopal  authority.      "The  Lake-Pilot  is  here   in    Mil- 
ton's thoughts  the  type  and  head  of  true  episcopal  power."  — 
RUSKIN. 

113.  How  well  could  I  have  spared,  etc.     This  passage  con- 
cluding in  line  129  is  in  many  respects  the  most  significant  in 
the  poem.     A  more  graphic  picture  of  the  incapacity  of   the 


154  NOTES 

hireling  church  can  hardly  be  conceived.  It  reveals  how  surely 
though  quietly  the  bow  was  being  strung  which  only  the  sinews 
of  Ulysses  could  draw,  and  which  would  send  the  arrow  to 
the  mark  when  the  time  came.  We  wonder  how  it  could 
have  escaped  the  condemnation  of  those  against  whom  it  was 
directed.  Emerson  says  :  "  Questions  that  involve  all  social 
and  personal  rights  were  hasting  to  be  decided  by  the  sword, 
and  were  searched  by  eyes  to  which  the  love  of  freedom,  civil  and 
religious,  lent  new  illumination." 

115.  Creep,  and  intrude,  and  climb.  Ruskin  says:  "Do  not 
think  Milton  uses  these  three  words  to  fill  up  his  verse.  He 
needs  all  the  three ;  specially  those  three,  and  no  more  than 
those.  —  'Creep,'  and  'intrude,'  and  'climb,'  no  other  words 
would  or  could  serve  the  turn,  and  no  more  could  be  added." 
There  are  three  classes  here :  First,  the  cunning ;  second,  the 
insolently  bold ;  and  third,  those  who  are  ambitious  to  gain 
high  dignities. 

119.  Blind  mouths.  "Those  two  monosyllables  express  the 
precisely  accurate  contraries  of  right  character ;  in  the  two 
great  offices  of  the  Church  —  those  of  bishop  and  pastor.  A 
Bishop  means  one  who  sees.  A  Pastor  means  one  who  feeds. 
The  most  unbishoply  character  a  man  can  have  is  therefore  to 
be  Blind.  The  most  unpastoral  is,  instead  of  feeding,  to  want 
to  be  fed  —  to  be  a  Mouth."  —  RUSKIN.  Cf.  Wordsworth, 

Prelude,  i.  210,  211:  — 

"  ballad  tunes 
Food  for  the  hungry  ears  of  little  oiies." 

124.  scrannel.     Screeching.     Coined  by  Milton.     (M.) 


LYCIDAS  155 

125.  The  hungry  sheep  look  up,  etc.     Cf.   Spenser,   Shep- 
heard's  Calendar  (Maye)  :  — 

Piers.   "  Those  faytours  little  regarden  their  charge, 

While  they,  letting  their  sheepe  runne  at  large, 

Passen  their  time  that  should  be  sparely  spent, 

In  lustihede  and  wanton  meryment. 

Thilke  same  bene  shepeheardes  for  the  Devil's  stedde, 

That  play  en  while  their  flockes  be  unfedde." 

Cf.  Ben  Jonson,  Parts  Anniversary :  — 

Shep.  "  Now  each  return  unto  his  charge, 

And  though  today  you've  lived  at  large, 
And  well  your  flocks  have  fed  their  till, 
Yet  do  not  trust  your  hireling  still. 
Seeyond'  they  go,  and  timely  do 
The  office  you  have  put  them  to ; 
But  if  you  often  give  this  leave, 
Your  sheep  and  you  they  will  deceive." 

Cowper  must  have  had  these  lines  in  mind  when  he  wrote  :  — 

"  When  nations  are  to  perish  in  their  sins, 
'Tis  in  the  church  the  leprosy  begins ; 
The  priest,  whose  office  is,  with  zeal  sincere, 
To  watch  the  fountain  and  preserve  it  clear, 
Carelessly  nods  and  sleeps  upon  the  brink, 
While  others  poison  what  the  flock  must  drink." 

—  Expostulation. 

126.  wind  and  rank  mist.     Unsubstantial  and  unwholesome 
doctrines.     "This  is  to  meet  the  vulgar  answer  that  'if  the 
poor  are  not  looked  after  in  their  bodies,  they  are  in  their  souls  ; 
they  have  spiritual  food.'  "  —  RUSKIN. 


156  NOTES 

128.  grim  wolf.  The  Church  of  Rome  was  growing  by  the 
converts  it  made,  and  there  was  little  opposition. 

130.  that  two-handed  engine.  This  passage  has  puzzled 
the  critics.  Some  think  it  refers  to  the  axe  to  be  laid  at  the 
root  of  the  trees,  or  the  sword  which  Michael  the  Archangel 
"brandished  with  huge  two-handed  sway"  in  the  war  in 
Heaven,  while  others  think  it  alludes  to  the  sword  of  the 
Apocalypse.  It  evidently  has  a  Biblical  origin.  Masson 
thinks  it  may  mean  the  Two  Houses  of  Parliament,  from  the 
fact  that  not  for  eight  years  had  Charles  summoned  a  Par- 
liament. When  we  consider  what  an  "engine"  the  Parlia- 
ment of  1640  was,  we  may  not  consider  this  interpretation 
far-fetched. 

132.  Return,  Alpheus,  etc.  After  the  digression  the  pastoral 
note  is  resumed  by  calling  upon  the  lover  of  Arethusa.  Cf. 
line  85. 

136.  use.     Stay. 

138.  swart  star.     The  malignant  Dog-star  Sirius. 

sparely.     Rarely. 

142-151.  Bring  the  rathe  primrose,  etc.  Ruskin  in  Modern 
Painters,  Vol.  II.,  "  Of  Imagination  Penetrative,"  page  168,  has 
a  somewhat  singular  comment  on  the  first  seven  lines  of  this 
beautiful  passage.  It  seems  to  contradict  the  teaching  of  Vol. 
I.  He  says:  "Compare  Milton's  flowers  in  Lycidas  with 
Perdita's.  In  Milton  it  happens,  I  think  generally,  and  in  the 
case  before  us  most  certainly,  that  the  imagination  is  mixed 
and  broken  with  fancy,  and  so  the  strength  of  the  imagery  is 


LYCIDAS  157 

part  of  iron  and  part  of  clay."  He  then  marks  the  lines  as 
follows  :  — 

14*2.   (Imagination.) 

143.  (Nugatory.)     Unimaginative. 

144.  (Fancy.) 

145.  (Imagination.) 

146.  (Fancy,  vulgar.) 

147.  (Imagination.) 

148.  (Mixed.) 

"  Then  hear  Perdita  :  — 

" '  O,  Proserpina, 

For  the  flowers  now,  that  frighted  thou  let'st  fall 
From  Dis's  wagon.    Daffodils 
That  come  before  the  swallow  dares,  and  take 
The  winds  of  March  with  heauty.    Violets  dim, 
But  sweeter  than  the  lids  of  Juno's  eyes 
Or  Cytherea's  breath  ;  pale  primroses 
That  die  unmarried,  ere  they  can  behold 
Bright  Phoebus  in  his  strength,  a  malady 
Most  incident  in  maids.'  "  —  Winter's  Tale. 

Observe  how  the  imagination  in  these  last  lines  goes  into  the 
very  inmost  soul  of  the  flower  .  .  .  and  never  stops  on  their 
spots,  or  their  bodily  shape,  while  Milton  sticks  in  the  stains 
upon  them  and  puts  us  off  with  that  unhappy  freak  of  jet  in  the 
very  flower  that  without  this  bit  of  paper-staining  would  have 
been  the  most  precious  to  us  of  all." 

Cf.  Spenser,  Shepheard"1  s  Calendar  (April)  :  — 

"  Bring  hither  the  pincke  and  purple  cullambine, 
•  f     With  gelliflowres  ; 


158  NOTES 

Bring  coronations,  and  sops-in-wine, 

Worn  with  paramoures : 
Strowe  me  the  ground  with  daffadowndillies, 
And  cowslips,  and  kingcups,  and  loved  lillies ; 
The  pretie  pawnee, 
And  the  chevisaunce, 

Shall  match  with  the  fayre  flower-delice." 
Cf.  Keats,  Endymion,  book  ii.  412-418  :  — 

"  the  ivy  mesh, 

Shading  its  Ethiop  berries ;  and  the  woodbine, 
Of  velvet  leaves  and  bugle-blooms  divine ; 
Convolvulus  in  streaked  vases  flush ; 
The  creeper,  mellowing  for  an  autumn  blush ; 
And  virgins  bower,  trailing  airily; 
With  others  of  the  sisterhood." 
Cf.  Tennyson,  In  Memoriam,  LXXXIII.  :  — 

"  Bring  orchis,  bring  the  fox-glove  spire, 
The  little  speedwell's  darling  blue, 
Deep  tulips  dash'd  with  fiery  dew, 
Laburnums,  dropping-wells  of  fire." 

142.  rathe.     Early.     Our  word  rather  is  the  comparative  of 
this  adjective. 

143.  crow-toe.     Crowfoot  violet. 

151.    laureate  hearse.     Laurelled  tomb. 

153.  dally  with  false  surmise.  Think  that  the  body  is  en- 
tombed, though  really  it  is  washed  about  by  the  sea. 

156-162.  beyond  the  stormy  Hebrides,  etc.  King  was  ship- 
wrecked on  the  Irish  coast.  Milton  sketches  the  wanderings  of 
the  body  to  the  Scottish  coast  —  to  Land's  End,  Cornwall  —  the 


LYCIDAS  159 

fabled  abode  of  Beller us ,  where  the  "guarded  mount,"  St. 
Michael's,  looks  toward  Cape  Finistere  and  the  castle  (hold)  of 
Bayona  on  the  south. 

163.  Look  homeward.     Here  Michael,  who  has  been  looking 
toward  Naumancos  and  Bayona's  hold,  is  asked  to  direct  his 
gaze  toward  England. 

164.  ye  dolphins,  etc.     An  allusion  to  the  rescuing  of  Arion, 
whom  the  sailors  had  thrown  overboard. 

165-181.  Weep  no  more,  etc.  Compare  these  lines  with  198- 
219  of  Epitaphium  Damonis. 

169.  repairs.    Raises  again. 

170.  new-spangled  ore.     Renewed  golden  splendor. 

173.  Through  the  dear  might  of  Him,  etc.  Note  the  appo- 
siteness  to  the  whole  subject  of  the  poem  in  this  reference  to 
Christ's  power  over  the  waves.  (M.) 

176.   unexpressive.    Inexpressibly  sweet.     (M.) 

181.    And  wipe  the  tears,  etc.     Cf.  Rev.  vii.  17,  xxi.  4. 

183.  thou  art  the  Genius,  etc.  Cf.  Epitaphium  Damonis, 
207-211. 

186.  uncouth.  Unknown,  rather  than  rude,  seeins  to  be  the 
idea  here. 

1655-1673 
ON  HIS  BLINDNESS 

In  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  breach  between  Royalist  and 
Puritan  was  daily  becoming  wider,  Milton,  having  gained  the 
approval  of  his  father,  prepared  to  carry  out  a  long-cherished 
plan  of  visiting  Italy.  His  passport  was  furnished  by  Sir  Henry 


160  NOTES 

Wotton,  Provost  of  Eton,  and  early  in  May  he  crossed  the 
Channel,  "to  fresh  woods  and  pastures  new."  "A  more  im- 
pressive Englishman  never  left  our  shores,"  says  Augustine 
Birrell.  "Sir  Philip  Sidney  perhaps  approaches  him  nearest. 
Beautiful  beyond  praise,  and  just  sufficiently  conscious  of  it  to 
be  careful  not  to  appear  at  a  disadvantage  —  a  gentleman,  a 
scholar,  a  poet,  a  musician,  and  a  Christian."  In  Paris  he  was 
presented  to  the  English  Ambassador  of  Charles,  and  by  him 
was  introduced  to  "that  most  learned  man,"  Hugo  Grotius, 
Ambassador  from  the  Queen  of  Sweden.  He  remained  in  Paris 
but  a  short  time,  for  his  dreams  of  classic  Italy  lured  him  on. 
In  August  we  find  him  in  Florence.  Here  he  was  received  with 
the  kindest  hospitality  by  many  of  the  young  men  in  the  fa- 
mous literary  circles,  and  was  praised  with  a  true  Italian  fervor. 
He  met  the  famous  Galileo  —  old,  feeble,  and  blind  —  at  his 
villa  in  Arcetri.  This  was  the  most  impressive  of  all  his  expe- 
riences in  Italy.  From  Florence  he  went  to  Rome,  where  he 
refreshed  his  memory  of  Horace,  Livy,  and  Virgil  by  visiting 
places  associated  with  their  life  and  work.  He  heard  Leonora 
Baroni,  the  first  singer  of  the  world  at  that  time,  and  expressed 
his  enthusiasm  for  her  art  in  Latin  epigrams.  In  five  sonnets 
written  in  Italian  we  have  another  illustration  of  Milton's  wor- 
ship at  the  shrine  of  Italian  beauty.  He  was  captivated  by  the 
"magnetic  movements  and  love-darting  dark  brow"  of  some 
daughter  of  this  land  of  art  and  beauty.  What  a  lover  he 
was  is  splendidly  illustrated  in  the  sonnet  which  Masson  has 
translated :  — 

"  Young,  gentlenatured,  and  a  simple  wooer, 
Since  in  myself  I  stand  in  doubt  to  fly, 


ON  HIS  BLINDNESS  161 

Lady,  to  thee  my  heart's  poor  gift  would  I 

Offer  devoutly ;  and  by  tokens  sure 
I  know  it  faithful,  fearless,  constant,  pure, 

In  its  conceptions  graceful,  good,  and  high. 

When  the  world  roars  and  flames  the  startled  sky ; 

In  its  own  adamant  it  rests  secure ; 
As  free  from  chance  and  malice  ever  found, 

And  fears  and  hopes  that  vulgar  minds  confuse, 

As  it  is  loyal  to  each  manly  thing 
And  to  the  sounding  lyre  and  to  the  muse, 

Only  in  that  part  is  it  not  so  sound 

Where  Love  hath  set  in  it  his  cureless  sting." 
He  writes  to  his  friend  Diodati  and  confides  in  him  the  secret 
of  the  passionate  love.  On  returning  home  he  learned  at 
Geneva  that  soon  after  he  left  England  Diodati  had  died.  This 
sadness,  together  with  the  feeling  that  it  was  unpatriotic  for 
him  to  be  in  pleasure  when  his  friends  at  home  were  struggling 
for  freedom,  hurried  him  to  England.  He  revealed  his  sense  of 
loss  at  the  death  of  his  friend  in  a  Latin  elegy,  Epitaphium 
Damonis.  Cf.  Cowper's  translation  of  this  poem. 

Mr.  Richard  Garnett  says  :  "  Four  times  has  a  great  English 
poet  taken  up  his  abode  in  'the  paradise  of  exiles,'  and  re- 
mained there  until  deeply  imbued  with  the  spirit  of  the  land. 
The  Italian  residence  of  Byron  and  Shelley,  of  Landor  and 
Browning,  has  infused  into  English  literature  a  new  element 
which  has  mingled  with  its  inmost  essence." 

On  returning  to  England  in  August,  1639,  Milton  did  not 
take  active  part  in  the  controversies  of  the  time,  but  settled  in 
studious  life.  After  a  short  visit  to  Horton  he  took  lodgings  in 
St.  Bride's,  Fleet  Street.  He  soon  found  these  too  small,  and 


162  NOTES 

the  next  year  he  removed  to  Aldersgate  Street,  outside  the  city 
walls,  near  Islington,  a  quiet  and  restful  quarter.  Here  he 
planned  a  poem  which  should  be  a  monument  to  the  English 
language  —  the  first  attempts  at  Paradise  Lost.  Here,  too,  he 
became  tutor  to  his  nephews  and  a  few  other  boys.  What  bis 
ideas  of  education  were  may  be  found  in  his  Tractate  on  Edu- 
cation, written  in  1644.  In  it  occurs  his  famous  definition  :  "  I 
call  therefore  a  complete  and  generous  education  that  which 
fits  a  man  to  perform  justly,  skilfully,  and  magnanimously  all 
offices,  both  private  and  public,  of  peace  and  war." 

In  1641  he  began  a  series  of  pamphlets  on  social  and  political 
questions,  the  first  of  which  was  Of  Reformation  Touching 
Church  Discipline  in  England. 

The  Civil  War  had  begun,  and  Milton  decided  that  he  could 
be  of  more  assistance  to  the  Parliamentarians  with  the  pen  than 
in  other  ways.  The  battle  at  Edgehill  had  been  fought  Octo- 
ber 23,  1642,  and  the  Cavaliers  were  advancing  toward  London. 
All  was  confusion  and  excitement  in  the  city  when  news  came 
that  the  enemy  had  been  checked  at  Brentford.  Milton  had 
reason  to  think  the  Cavaliers  would  seek  him  out,  and  half  in 
jest,  half  in  earnest,  he  wrote  a  sonnet  to  the  commander. 
The  title  given  in  the  Cambridge  Mss.  is  significant:  "  On  his 
dore  when  ye  citty  expected  an  assault."  This  was  afterwards 
changed  by  Milton  himself  to  When  the  Assault  was  Intended 
to  the  City. 

In  the  summer  of  1643  Milton  made  a  journey  into  the 
country,  and  after  a  month  returned  with  a  wife.  The  event 
was  attended  with  appropriate  entertainment  in  the  home  in 
Aldersgate  Street.  The  bride  was  Mary  Powell  of  Forest  Hill, 


ON  HIS  BLINDNESS  163 

which  was  within  the  forest  of  Shotover,  in  which  Milton's 
grandfather  had  been  under-ranger.  It  seems  that  the  Powells 
and  the  Miltons  had  been  together  in  business  transactions,  the 
estate  at  Forest  Hill  being  mortgaged  to  the  scrivener. 

It  soon  became  evident  that  the  marriage  was  an  ill-considered 
one,  for  the  Powells  were  Royalists.  The  bride,  used  to  the 
gayeties  of  Cavalier  society,  soon  tired  of  the  sober  life  with  the 
Roundhead  schoolmaster  in  London.  The  two  became  mutually 
repugnant  to  each  other,  as  was  natural  in  such  a  union  of 
frivolity  with  thoughtfulness.  We  are  not  called  upon  to  fix 
the  responsibility  here,  but  we  are  not  to  forget  that  with  all  his 
love  of  a  studious  life  Milton  had  no  little  susceptibility  to  the 
charm  of  feminine  beauty.  A  month  after  the  marriage  the 
wife  begged  permission  to  visit  her  old  home.  She  went  to 
Forest  Hill  in  July,  and  as  she  showed  no  disposition  to  return 
to  Aldersgate  Street,  Milton  at  first  wrote,  but  getting  no  reply, 
despatched  a  messenger,  who  returned,  u  having  been  dismissed 
with  some  sort  of  contempt."  The  result  of  this  act  on  the 
part  of  the  wife  was  to  turn  Milton's  attention  to  the  institution 
of  marriage,  and  he  published  anonymously  the  pamphlet  The 
Doctrine  and  Discipline  of  Divorce.  Emerson  says:  "It  is  to 
be  regarded  as  a  poem  on  one  of  the  griefs  of  man's  condition, 
unfit  marriage.  It  should  receive  that  charity  which  an  angelic 
soul  suffering  more  keenly  than  others  from  the  unavoidable 
evils  of  human  life  is  entitled  to."  In  this  he  makes  no  mention 
of  his  personal  case,  but  considers  the  principle  as  it  were  in 
the  abstract.  Pattison  says  :  "  His  argument  throughout  glows 
with  a  white  heat  of  concealed  emotion."  The  stir  occasioned 
by  this  pamphlet  was  widespread  ;  the  Church  party  was  glad 


164  NOTES 

that  such  a  scandal  had  arisen  in  the  Presbyterian  family,  and 
Milton  went  out  from  his  own  fold.  Here  is  the  beginning 
of  the  party  known  as  Independents.  Milton  now  reedited  the 
pamphlet  on  Divorce,  to  which  he  signed  his  name,  although  it 
contained  a  daring  address  to  Parliament. 

The  list  of  pamphlets  was  now  increased  by  the  tract  On 
Education,  Areopagitica,  and  three  more  on  Divorce :  The 
Judgement  of  Martin  Bucer,  Tetrachordon,  and  Colastcrion. 
The  last  three  were  called  forth  by  the  attacks  of  his  enemies. 
The  first  of  these  was  a  challenge  to  the  Westminster  Assembly 
which  had  assailed  him  as  "Divorcer";  the  second  was  a 
review  of  the  four  chief  places  in  Scripture  where  the  subject 
of  marriage  is  treated,  and  the  third  was  a  stinging  reply  to  his 
assailants  who  were  determined  to  suppress  all  of  his  sect. 

In  the  meantime  the  fortunes  of  the  Royalists  were  waning, 
until  at  Naseby,  in  June,  1645,  defeat  and  ruin  came  at  the 
hands  of  the  new  army  of  the  Independents.  By  this  defeat 
the  Powells  were  made  bankrupt,  and  in  their  distress  they 
turned  to  Milton,  whose  star  was  in  the  ascendant.  Some 
friends  of  both  parties  arranged  by  conspiracy  a  meeting  of 
Milton  and  Mary  Powell  at  a  house  where  he  often  visited  in 
St.  Martins-le-Grand.  When  he  entered  she  emerged  from  an 
adjoining  room,  threw  herself  at  his  feet  and  begged  for  recon- 
ciliation :  — 

"  With  tears  that  ceas'd  not  flowing 
And  tresses  all  disorder 'd,  at  his  feet 
Fell  humble,  and  embracing  them,  besought 

His  peace 

Soon  his  heart  relented 
Tow'rds  her,  his  life  so  late  and  sole  delight 


ON  HIS  BLINDNESS  165 

Now  at  his  feet  submissive  in  distress  ! 
Creature  so  fair  his  reconcilement  seeking, 

At  once  disarmed,  his  anger  all  he  lost." 

—  Paradise  Lost,  x.  937. 

He  received  not  only  her  but  the  family  of  Powells  as  well, 
including  the  mother-in-law,  who  probably  encouraged  the  de- 
sertion. The  house  in  Aldersgate  Street  had  proved  too  small 
for  his  classes,  and  he  received  the  addition  to  his  family  in  the 
house  of  Barbican.  It  was  here  that  the  sonnets  On  the  Detrac- 
tion were  written.  They  continued  the  controversy  raised  by 
the  pamphlets  on  Divorce.  The  fact  that  they  were  written 
after  his  wife  had  returned,  and  when  he  had  lost  some  interest 
in  the  question,  accounts  for  the  fact  that  they  are  less  violent 
than  the  retorts  in  prose. 

Milton's  father  died  in  March  of  this  year  and  was  buried  in 
St.  Giles',  Cripplegate.  As  is  the  case  with  Burns,  Carlyle, 
Wordsworth,  and  Tennyson,  Milton  owed  as  much  to  the 
father's  influence  as  to  the  mother's.  He  has  acknowledged 
his  gratitude  to  him  in  prose  and  verse.  In  prose  he  praises 
"  the  ceaseless  diligence  and  care  of  a  father  whom  God  recom- 
pense" ;  and  in  a  Latin  poem,  Ad  Patrem,  written  at  Horton, 
there  is  a  warmth  of  genuine  piety  and  noble  regard. 

The  Independents  were  now  a  powerful  party  and  determined 
to  espouse  freedom  of  conscience  against  the  system  of  Pres- 
byterian Church  Government  which  represented  "  No  Tolera- 
tion," and  the  suppression  of  all  sects  not  in  uniformity. 
Against  this  intolerance  Milton  raised  his  voice. 


166  NOTES 

About  Michaelmas,  1647,  he  gave  up  taking  pupils  and  moved 
to  a  smaller  house  in  High  Holborn,  opening  into  Lincoln's  Inn 
Fields.  Cromwell  and  Fairfax  had  marched  through  London, 
and  the  flight  of  Charles  I.  from  Hampton  Court  to  the  Isle  of 
Wight  soon  followed.  Milton  was  studiously  employed  in  liter- 
ary work,  planning  a  Latin  Dictionary,  a  Complete  History  oj 
England,  and  a  Digest  of  Christian  Doctrine :  so  much  did  his 
love  of  letters  precede  his  Republicanism. 

The  English  and  Scottish  Royalists  rose  in  behalf  of  Charles, 
now  a  prisoner  at  the  Isle  of  Wight.  This  uprising  was  the 
Second  Civil  War.  Cromwell  met  and  defeated  the  northern 
Royalists  (Scots)  at  Preston,  and  Fairfax  laid  siege  to  Col- 
chester, a  town  which  had  been  seized  by  the  Royalists.  It 
surrendered  after  three  months. 

After  the  execution  of  the  King  in  January,  1649,  the  power 
was  centred  in  the  Council  of  State.  This  Council  needed  for 
Secretary  one  who  could  translate  the  State  papers,  and  it  is 
not  surprising  that  they  turned  to  Milton,  who  had  lately  de- 
fended their  action  in  the  pamphlet,  Tenure  of  Kings  and 
Magistrates.  Here  a  new  world  opened  to  him.  He  would  be 
a  companion  of  the  great  men  whom  he  admired  —  of  Fairfax, 
Cromwell,  and  Vane.  On  March  15,  1649,  he  was  inducted 
into  office.  As  High  Holborn  was  inconveniently  distant  from 
his  desk,  he  moved  to  Petty  France  in  Westminster,  opening 
into  St.  James  Park,  where  he  lived  until  the  Restoration. 
Besides  translating  despatches  he  was  the  censor  of  the  official 
organ,  the  Mercurius  Politicus,  and  he  was  expected  to  reply  to 
any  attacks  made  upon  the  government.  He  returned  the  fire 
of  Gauden's  Eikon  Basilike,  in  Eikonoklastes,  and  of  Salma- 


ON  HIS  BLINDNESS  167 

sius'  Defensio  Begia,  in  Pro  Populo  Anglicano  Defensio.  In 
this  close  application  he  injured  his  eyesight. 

In  the  conflict  between  Cromwell  and  Sir  Harry  Vane,  Milton 
was  impartial  enough  to  sing  the  glories  of  each,  and  addressed 
to  each  a  sonnet. 

That  Milton  became  totally  blind  in  1652  is  evident  from  the 
fact  that  the  sonnets  of  that  year  to  Cromwell  and  Vane  are  not 
in  his  own  hand.  The  reason  that  the  sonnet  on  his  blindness 
was  not  written  earlier  may  be  due  to  the  fact  that  he  had  been 
devoting  all  his  powers  to  the  replies  to  Clamor.  He  had  now 
completed  the  last  of  these  —  the  Pro  se  Defensio.  He  had 
been  made  a  subject  of  scorn  and  coarse  jest  in  the  Clamor, 
and  his  enemies  at  home  taunted  him  with  suffering  the  just 
judgment  of  God  for  his  conduct  in  the  affairs  of  Church  and 
State.  We  must  believe  that  these  things  at  times  caused  him 
to  be  depressed.  Masson  says:  "Again  and  again  in  Milton's 
later  writings  in  prose  and  verse  there  are  passages  of  the  most 
touching  sorrow  over  his  darkened  and  desolate  condition." 
When  we  consider  how  intense  was  Milton's  nature  :  how  bitter 
was  his  disposition  when  attacked ;  how  proud  he  was,  and 
with  what  impatience  he  bore  some  of  the  domestic  infelici- 
ties for  which  he  alone  was  responsible,  we  are  amazed  at 
the  lofty  serenity  and  the  holy  resignation  which  this  poem 
reveals." 

Mr.  Stopford  Brooke  says:  "Having  done  with  personal 
wars,  he  looked  forward  always  to  the  time  when  he  might 
let  himself  loose,  and,  leaving  the  disputes  and  passions  of 
earth,  soar  into  the  poetic  air  in  which  alone  he  breathed  with 
ease  and  pleasure  and  triumph.  He  loved  the  solemn  beauty 


168  NOTES 

of  lofty  thought  more  than  any  man  in  England  has  ever 
loved  it." 

Lowell  says  :  "  There  is  hardly  a  more  stately  figure  in  liter- 
ary history  than  Milton's,  no  life  in  some  of  its  aspects  more 
tragical,  except  Dante's.  In  both  these  great  poets,  more  than 
in  any  others,  the  character  of  the  man  makes  part  of  the  sin- 
gular impressiveness  of  what  they  wrote,  and  of  its  vitality  in 
after  times." 

In  the  Tractate  on  Education  Milton  had  said  that  the  read- 
ing of  the  masters  would  reveal  to  pupils  u  what  religious,  what 
glorious  and  magnificent  use  might  be  made  of  Poetry,  both 
in  divine  and  human  things."  When  he  wrote  this  he  little 
thought  that  his  own  ''glorious  and  magnificent"  poetry  would 
be  the  highest  revelation  of  the  divine  and  the  human  ;  that  it 
would  inspire  the  same  calm  and  steady  heroism  in  others  when 
facing  the  pitiless  storm.  Cf .  Paradise  Lost,  iii.  41-44 :  — 

"  Seasons  return  ;  but  not  to  me  returns 
Day,  or  the  sweet  approach  of  even  or  morn 
Or  sight  of  vernal  bloom,  or  summer's  rose, 
Or  flocks,  or  herds,  or  human  face  divine." 

It  was  this  magnificent  spectacle  which  perhaps  more  than 
any  other  fortified  Wordsworth  against  malignant  truth  or  lie, 
and  enabled  him  to  be  strong  in  himself  and  powerful  to  give 
strength.  In  the  following,  which  Wordsworth  wished  prefixed 
to  every  edition  of  his  works,  we  have  the  keynote  of  his  spirit. 

"  If  thou  indeed  derive  thy  light  from  Heaven, 
Then  to  the  measure  of  that  heaven-born  light, 
Shine,  Poet,  in  thy  place,  and  be  content. 
The  stars  pre-eminent  in  magnitude, 


ON  HIS  BLINDNESS  169 

And  they  that  from  the  zenith  dart  their  beams, 

(Visible  though  they  be  to  half  the  earth, 

Though  half  a  sphere  be  conscious  of  their  brightness) , 

Are  yet  of  no  diviner  origin, 

No  purer  essence,  than  the  one  that  burns, 

Like  an  untended  watch-fire  on  the  ridge 

Of  some  dark  mountain ;  or  than  those  which  seem 

Humbly  to  hang,  like  twinkling  winter  lamps, 

Among  the  branches  of  the  leafless  trees. 

Then  to  the  measure  of  the  light  vouchsafed, 

Shine,  Poet,  in  thy  place,  and  be  content." 

2.  Ere  half  my  days.     Milton's  eyesight  began  to  fail  several 
years  before  he  became  totally  blind  in  1652. 

3.  one  talent.     Cf.  Matthew,  xxv.  14. 

"  That  first  great  gift,  the  vital  soul." 

—  WORDSWORTH,  Prelude,  1. 
8.   fondly,     foolishly. 

12.    thousands,  etc.    Cf .  Spenser,  Hymn  of  Heavenly  Love  :  — 

"  There  they  in  their  trinal  triplicities 
About  him  wait  and  on  his  will  depend,"  etc. 


1658-1673 

ON  HIS  DECEASED  WIFE 
(In  the  hand  of  an  amanuensis  in  the  Cambridge  Mss.) 

In  November,  1656,  Milton  married  Catherine  Woodcock, 
daughter  of  Captain  Woodcock  of  Hackney,  and  the  house  in 
Petty  France  was  lighted  up  with  the  presence  of  a  genial  and 
sympathetic  woman. 


170  NOTES 

His  labors  as  Secretary  were  now  somewhat  relieved  by  the 
appointment  of  Andrew  Marvel  as  assistant.  It  seems  that 
Milton's  fame  as  champion  of  liberty  had  spread  abroad,  for  Au- 
brey says  that  he  was  urged  to  come  to  France  and  Italy,  where 
he  was  offered  "great  preferments."  Many  foreigners  visited 
England  "to  see  the  house  and  chamber  where  he  was  born." 
It  was  a  time  of  quiet  and  he  was  meditating  his  flight  "above 
the  Aeonian  Mount  "  in  Paradise  Lost.  He  writes  to  a  friend  : 
"  I  am  glad  to  know  that  you  are  assured  of  my  tranquil  spirit 
in  this  great  affliction  of  the  loss  of  sight,  and  also  of  the 
pleasure  I  have  in  being  civil  and  attentive  in  the  reception  of 
visitors  from  abroad.  Why,  in  truth,  should  I  not  gently  bear 
the  loss  of  sight  when  I  may  hope  that  it  is  not  so  much  lost  as 
retracted  inwards  for  the  sharpening  rather  than  the  blunting 
of  my  mental  edge."  But  the  blessing  of  sympathetic  and 
tender  attentions  from  a  partner  in  his  joys  and  sorrows  was 
not  long  to  be  his,  for  early  in  1658  his  wife  died  in  childbirth, 
and  the  infant  daughter  lived  but  a  month.  Left  with  his  three 
young  daughters,  the  eldest  only  twelve,  in  his  despondency  he 
would  wander  from  room  to  room  and  recall  the  pleasant  hours 
spent  with  her  in  whose  person  shone  that  '  love,  sweetness, 
and  goodness '  which  for  one  year  had  made  him  strangely 
happy.  We  may  fancy  him  stopping  at  the  doors  where  his 
heart  was  used  to  beat  so  quickly,  and 

"  Waiting  for  a  hand, 
A  hand  that  can  be  clasp'd  no  more,  — 

Behold  him,  for  he  cannot  sleep." 

In  his  dreams  he  sees  her  whom  in  his  waking  hours  he  was 
not  permitted  to  gaze  upon. 


ON  HIS  DECEASED    WIFE  171 

In  the  Li  Memoriam  Tennyson  reveals  a  similar  experience 
during  his  day  dreams  :  — 

"  So  word  by  word,  and  line  by  line, 

The  dead  man  touch'd  me  from  the  past, 
And  all  at  once  it  seem'd  at  last 
His  living  soul  was  flash'd  on  mine." 
She  was  buried  in  St.  Margaret's,  Westminster. 
In  1887  Mr.  George  W.  Childs  of  Philadelphia,  whose  bene- 
factions were  so  noble,  "  every  one  a  testimony  of  peace  and 
goodwill,"  offered  to  defray  the  expense  of  a  Milton  memorial 
window   in   St.   Margaret's   Church,    and   Archdeacon   F.   W. 
Farrar,  who  was  asked  to  take  the  matter  in  charge,  wrote  the 
following  to  Mr.  Childs  :  "  Mr.  Lowell  wrote  me  a  quatrain  for 
the  Raleigh  window.      I  can  think  of  no  one  so  suitable  as 
Mr.  J.  G.  Whittier  to  write  four  lines  for  the  Milton  window. 
Mr.  Whittier  would   feel  the  fullest  sympathy  for  the   great 
Puritan  poet,  whose  spirit  was  so  completely  that  of  the  Pilgrim 
Fathers."     Mr.  Childs  forwarded  the  letter  to  Mr.   Whittier, 
who  accepted  the  invitation  and  composed  the  following  :  — 

"The  new  world  honors  him  whose  lofty  plea 

For  England's  freedom  made  her  own  more  sure, 
Whose  song,  immortal  as  its  theme,  shall  be 

Their  common  freehold  while  both  worlds  endure." 
Dr.  Farrar  on  receiving  these  lines  wrote  to  Mr.  Whittier  as 
follows:  "Let  me  thank  you  for  the  four  lines  on  Milton. 
They  are  all  that  I  can  desire,  and  they  will  add  to  the  interest 
which  all  Englishmen  and  Americans  will  feel  in  the  beautiful 
Milton  window.  I  think  that  if  Milton  had  now  been  living, 
you  are  the  poet  whom  he  would  have  chosen  to  speak  of  him, 


172  NOTES 

as  being  the  poet  with  whose  whole  tone  of  mind  he  would 
have  been  most  in  sympathy." 

Cf.  Arnold's  address  at  the  unveiling  of  this  window,  p.  xxiv 
of  this  volume. 

Mr.  Henry  Van  Dyke  says:  "Of  woman,  woman  as  God 
meant  her  to  be,  woman  as  she  is  in  true  purity  and  unspoiled 
beauty  of  her  nature,  Milton  never  thought  otherwise  than  nobly 
and  reverently.  Surely  there  is  no  more  beautiful  and  heartfelt 
praise  of  perfect  womanhood  in  all  literature  than  this  sonnet." 
Cf.  Wordsworth's  tribute  to  his  wife  in  She  was  a  Phantom 
of  Delight :  — 

"  The  reason  firm,  the  temperate  will, 
Endurance,  foresight,  strength  and  skill; 
A  perfect  woman,  nobly  planned  ; 
To  warn,  to  comfort  and  command; 
And  yet  a  spirit  still,  and  bright 
With  something  of  angelic  light." 

Cf.  Tennyson,  Princess:  — 

"  My  wife,  my  life.    O  we  will  walk  this  world, 
Yoked  in  all  exercise  of  noble  end, 
And  so  thro'  those  dark  gates  across  the  wild 
That  no  man  knows.     Indeed  I  love  thee :  come, 
Yield  thyself  up  :  my  hopes  and  thine  are  one : 
Accomplish  thou  my  manhood  and  thyself ; 
Lay  thy  sweet  hands  in  mine  and  trust  to  me." 

Dedication  to  Enoch  Arden  :  — 

"  Dear,  near  and  true  —  no  truer  Time  himself 
Can  prove  you,  tho'  he  make  you  evermore 
Dearer  and  nearer." 


ON  HIS  DECEASED    WIFE  173 

Cromwell  died  in  August,  1658,  and  during  "Richard's  Pro- 
tectorate Milton  remained  in  office.  He  wrote  the  State  papers 
and  composed  three  pamphlets.  The  first  was  A  Treatise  of 
Civil  Power  in  Ecclesiastical  Causes :  showing  that  it  is  not 
lawful  for  any  Power  on  Earth  to  compel  in  Matters  of  lle- 
ligion.  In  this  he  criticised  Cromwell  for  supporting  a  State 
Church.  The  second,  Considerations  touching  the  Likeliest 
Means  to  remove  Hirelings  out  of  the  Church,  was  also  an 
attack  upon  Cromwell's  unjust  interference  in  u  free  election  of 
ministers."  These  were  both  in  the  spirit  of  Vane  and  the 
Republicans.  In  May,  1659,  Richard  abdicated,  and  on  Monk 
being  made  Dictator,  in  March,  1660,  the  third  pamphlet 
appeared.  It  was  A  Ready  and  Easy  Way  to  establish  a  Free 
Commonwealth.  Monk  and  the  Parliament  disregarded  this 
splendid  plea  for  a  Republic.  In  May  the  Restoration  came 
and  the  hunt  for  Regicides  began.  Milton  fled  from  his  home 
and  took  hiding  at  a  friend's  in  Bartholomew  Close,  until  the 
29th  of  August,  when  the  Act  of  Indemnity  was  passed.  He 
was  nevertheless  taken  into  custody  by  the  Sergeant-at-Arms, 
and  his  Defensio  and  Eikonoklastes  burned  by  the  hangman. 
He  was  released  from  custody  by  the  intercession  of  friends, 
Andrew  Marvel,  or  Sir  William  Davenant,  the  new  Poet- 
laureate. 

"  On  evil  days  now  fallen,  and  evil  tongues, 
In  darkness,  and  with  dangers  compassed  round," 

his  cause  lost,  his  enemies  in  triumph,  his  name  a  byword,  his 
fortune  impaired,  at  fifty-two  he  is  thrown  back  upon  himself, 
and  he  asks  — 


174  NOTES 

"  by  which  means, 

Now  blind,  disheartened,  shamed,  dishonoured,  quelled, 
To  what  can  I  be  useful  ?    Wherein  serve 
My  nation,  and  the  work  from  Heaven  imposed?  " 
He  begins  to  work  upon  the  plan  that  pleased  his  boyish 
thought;  he  is  attired  with  sudden  brightness  like  a  man  in- 
spired.    Paradise  Lost,  Paradise  Eegained,  Samson  Agonistes 
reveal  to  us 

"Things  unattempted  yet  in  prose  or  rhyme." 
Lowell  says :  "  It  is  idle  to  talk  of  the  loneliness  of  one  the 
habitual  companions  of  whose  mind  were  the  Past  and  Future. 
I  always  seem  to  see  him  leaning  in  his  blindness  a  hand  on  the 
shoulder  of  each,  sure  that  one  will  guard  the  song  which  the 
other  had  inspired." 

"  What  though  the  music  of  thy  rustic  flute 
Kept  not  for  long  its  happy  country  tone ; 

Lost  it  too  soon,  and  learnt  a  stormy  note 
Of  men  contention-tost,  of  men  who  groan, 
Which  task'd  thy  pipe  too  sore,  and  tired  thy  throat  — 

It  fail'd  and  thou  wast  mute! 
Yet  hadst  thou  always  visions  of  our  light 
And  long  with  men  of  care  thou  couldst  not  stay, 
And  soon  thy  foot  resumed  its  wandering  way, 
Left  human  haunt,  and  on  alone  till  night." 
2.  like  Alcestis,  etc.     An  allusion  to  the  Alcestis  of  Euripi- 
des, where  Hercules  rescues  the  heroine  from  the  lower  world 
and  restores  her  to  her  husband. 

"  Euripides  the  human  with  his  droppings  of  warm  tears 
And  his  touching  of  things  human  'till  they  seem  to  reach 
the  spheres." 


0^  HIS  DECEASED    WIFE  175 

6.  Purification.     Cf.  Leviticus  xii. 

10.  Her  face  was  veiled.  Milton  had  never  looked  upon 
her  face.  Masson  thinks  there  is  here  a  possible  allusion  to 
Alkestis  when  restored  to  Adinetus. 

"  There  is  no  telling  how  the  hero  twitched 
The  veil  off." 

—  BROWNING,  Balaustion's  Adventure. 


KEFERENCES 


BIOGRAPHY 

Garnett,  Richard.     Milton  (Great  Writers  Series). 

Johnson,  S.     Milton  (Lives  of  the  Poets). 

Masson,  David.     Life  of  John  Milton.     6  vols. 

Masson,  David.     The  Poetical  Works  of  John  Milton.     3  vols. 

Pattison,  M.     Milton  (English  Men  of  Letters  Series). 

HISTORY 

Archer,  T.     The  Highway  of  Letters. 
Fiske,  J.     Beginnings  of  New  England. 
Gardiner,  S.  R.     History  of  England. 
Green,  J.  R.     Short  History  of  the  English  People. 
Howitt,  W.    Homes  and  Haunts  of  British  Poets. 
Hutton,  L.     Literary  Landmarks  of  London. 
Macaulay,  T.  B.     History  of  England. 
Mitchell,  D.  G.     From  Elizabeth  to  Anne. 

CRITICISM 

Arnold,  M.     Essays  in  Criticism.     Second  Series. 
Bagehot,  W.    Literary  Studies. 

Bayne,  Peter.     Chief  Actors  of  the  Puritan  Revolution. 
N  177 


1 78  REFERENCES 

Birrell,  A.     Obiter  Dicta.     Second  Series. 

Brooke,  S.  A.     Milton  (Classical  Writers). 

Brooke,  S.  A.     English  Literature.     Macmillan  &  Co. 

Carlyle,  T.     History  of  Literature. 

Channing,  W.  E.     On  the   Character  and   Writings  of  John 

Milton. 

Coleridge,  S.  T.    Lectures  on  Shakespeare  and  Milton. 
Dowden,  E.     Transcripts  and  Studies. 
Emerson,  R.  W.     Essays  from  the  North  American  Review. 
Forster,  J.     The  Statesmen  of  the  Commonwealth. 
Lowell,  J.  R.     Prose  Works.     Vol.  IV. 
Macaulay,  T.  B.     Essay  on  Milton. 
Masson,  D.     Three  Devils,  and  other  Essays. 
Maurice,  F.  I).     The  Friendship  of  Books. 
Myers,  E.     Introduction  to  Milton's  Prose. 
Palgrave,  E.  T.     Landscape  in  Poetry. 
Saintsbury,  G.    Elizabethan  Literature. 
Shairp,  J.  C.     Poetical  Interpretation  of  Nature. 
Scherer,  E.     Essays.     Trans,  by  George  Saintsbury. 
Taine,  H.  A.     English  Literature. 
Van  Dyke,  H.    The  Poetry  of  Tennyson  (Milton  and  Tennyson). 


BOOKS  PRESCRIBED  FOR  COLLEGE 
ENTRANCE   EXAMINATIONS. 


For  Reading. 


1899. 


Cooper — Last  of  the  Mohicans. 
Dryden  —  Palamon  and  Arcite. 
Addison  —  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley. 
Goldsmith  — Vicar  of  Wakefield. 
Coleridge  —  Ancient  Mariner. 
De  Quincey  —  Revolt  of  the  Tartars. 
Pope  — Iliad,  Books  I.,  VI.,  XXII., 
XXIV. 


For  Study. 


Shakespeare  —  Macbeth. 
Milton  — Paradise    Lost,    Books    I. 
and  II. 

Burke  —  Speech  on  Conciliation. 
Carlyle —  Essay  on  Burns. 


For  Reading. 


19OO. 


Tennyson  —  The  Princess. 
Scott  —  Ivanhoe. 

De  Quincey  —  Revolt  of  the  Tartars. 
Pope  —  Iliad,  Books  I.,  VI.,  XXII., 

XXIV. 

Cooper  —  Last  of  the  Mohicans. 
Dryden  —  Palamon  and  Arcite. 
Addison  —  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley. 
Goldsmith  —  Vicar  of  Wakefield. 


For  Study. 


Macaulay — Essays  on  Milton  and 

Addison. 

Burke  —  Speech  on  Conciliation. 
Shakespeare  —  Macbeth. 


Milton —  Paradise 
and  II. 


Lost,    Books    I. 


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For  Reading. 


19O1. 


Eliot  —  Silas  Marner. 

Shakespeare  —  Macbeth. 

Pope  — Iliad,  Books  I.,  VI.,  XXI I., 

XXIV. 

Addison  —  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley. 
Goldsmith  — Vicar  of  Wakefield. 
Coleridge  —  Ancient  Mariner. 
Tennyson  —  The  Princess. 
Scott  —  I  vanhoe. 
Cooper  —  Last  of  the  Mohicans. 


For  Study. 


Shakespeare —  Macbeth. 

Milton  —  L'Allegro,    II     Penseroso, 

Comus,  and  Lycidas. 
Burke  —  Speech  on  Conciliation. 
Macaulay  — Essays  on   Milton  and 

Addison. 


For  Reading. 


1902. 


Pope  — Iliad,  Books  I.,  VI.,  XXII., 

XXIV. 

Addison  —  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley. 
Coleridge  —  Ancient  Mariner. 
Eliot  —  Silas  Marner. 
Shakespeare  —  Merchant  of  Venice. 
Tennyson  —  The  Princess. 
Scott  —  Ivanhoe. 
Cooper  —  Last  of  the  Mohicans. 
Goldsmith  —Vicar  of  Wakefield. 


For  Study. 


Shakespeare—  Macbeth. 
Burke  —  Speech  on  Conciliation. 
Milton  —  L'Allegro,     II     Penseroso, 

Comus,  and  Lycidas. 
Macaulay — Essays  on  Milton  and 

Addison. 


THE   MACMILLAN    COMPANY, 

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"  This  work  gives  the  student  the  very  gist  and  germ  of  the  art  of  composi- 
tion."—  Public^  Opinion 


with  just  enough  of  the  principles  to  guide  him  aright.     The  an 
abundance  of  exercises  for  the  student  to  study  and  analyze,  and  t 


abundance  of  exercises  for  the  student  to  study  and  analyze,  and  this  is  the  very 
best  kind  of  help.  The  scheme  of  the  subject-matter  is  somewhat  unique  and 
novel,  but  it  is  comprehensive  and  lucid.  ...  A  very  serviceable  and  suggestive 
book  to  read  and  consult."  —  Education. 

"  The  text  represents  the  substance  of  teaching  which  a  freshman  may  fairly 
be  expected  to  compass,  and  it  is  set  forth  with  a  clearness  and  directness  and 
brevity  so  admirable  as  to  make  the  volume  seem  almost  the  realization  of  that 
impossible  short  method  of  learning  to  write  which  has  often  been  sought  for, 
but  never  with  a  nearer  approach  to  being  found.  .  .  .  We  do  not  hesitate  to 
give  unreserved  commendation  to  this  little  book." —  The  Nation. 

"  Seldom  has  so  much  good  common  sense  been  put  within  so  brief  a  space." 
—  The  Boston  Herald. 


THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY, 

66   FIFTH   AVENUE,   NEW   YORK. 


Studies  in  Structure  and  Style* 

BASED  ON  SEVEN  MODERN  ENGLISH  ESSAYS. 

By  W.  T.  BREWSTER,  A.M., 

Tutor  in  Rhetoric  and  English  in  Columbia  University. 

With  an  Introduction  by  G.  R.  CARPENTER,  A.B  ,  Professor  of  Rhetoric  and 
English  Composition  in  Columbia  University. 

Cloth.      i2mo.      $1.10. 

The  Seven  Essays  referred  to  are  :  J.  A.  Froude's  "  The  Defeat  of  the  Span- 
ish Armada,"  R.  L.  Stevenson's  "  Personal  Experience  and  Review,"  John 
Morley's  "  Macaulay,"  Matthew  Arnold's  "  On  the  Study  of  Celtic  Literature," 
James  Bryce's  "  The  Strength  of  American  Democracy,"  John  Ruskin's  "  The 
Crown  of  Wild  Olive,"  and  J.  H.  Newman's  "  What  is  a  University?  " 

It  is  of  too  recent  publication  to  have  been  in  class-room  use,  but  will  be 
introduced  at  the  beginning  of  another  school  year  in  a  number  of  schools. 


"  It  is  well  conceived,  and  the  selections  are  excellent  for  their  purpose."  — 
Prof.  Felix  E.  Schelling,  University  of  Pennsylvania. 

"  The  selections  seem  to  be  chosen  with  good  judgment,  and  the  notes  to 
be  careful  and  instructive." —  Prof.  Fred  P.  Emery,  Dartmouth  College, 
Hanover,  N.H. 

"  I  am  even  more  pleased  with  the  book  than  I  had  expected  to  be.  ...  I 
shall  certainly  try  to  introduce  the  book  into  one  of  my  classes  next  fall."  — 
Miss  Anna  H.  Smith,  High  School,  Binghamton,  N.Y. 

"  '  Studies  in  Structure  and  Style'  is,  I  think,  the  best  book  of  the  kind  that 
has  yet  appeared,  and  I  shall  be  glad  to  recommend  it  to  my  classes."— Prof . 
Edwin  M.  Hopkins,  University  of  Kansas,  Lawrence,  Kan. 

"  I  have  delayed  to  acknowledge  Brewster's  '  Studies  in  Structure  and  Style,' 
which  you  kindly  sent  me,  until  I  could  examine  it  with  some  care.  That  exami- 
nation is  very  satisfactory.  The  selections  are  well  chosen,  and  the  comments 
both  on  their  structure  and  their  style  are  distinctly  valuable.  The  work  can 
hardly  fail  to  be  of  large  service."  —  Miss  E.  G.  Willcox,  IVellesley  College,  Mass. 


THE  MACMILLAN    COMPANY, 

66   FIFTH   AVENUE,   NEW  YORK. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 
on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 


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